


To have loved, and lost

by professorflo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt, F/M, marriage law
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2018-11-23 12:59:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 52,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11402901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/professorflo/pseuds/professorflo
Summary: Renamed: Was MISSED CHANCES A drunk and distraught Snape looks back on how he missed his chance to find happiness with the woman he married. Meant to be a one shot, but possibly will be longer, with the rating going up.





	1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I in no way own these characters. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

I started to write this with the intention of it being a one shot, but I have enough ideas to make it into a full story. What do you think?

* * *

A casual observer may well believe the house was empty. Of course, to any passing muggle it would seem derelict, even if they were perceptive enough to give it a slightest bit of notice. A witch or wizard, or any other magical being, however, would see an old mill worker's house, small and narrow, but up until very recently, well-kept and neat.

The flowers in the few pots that stood either side of the front door and under the windows were dry and in need of a little care otherwise they would be dead before long. If anyone had cared to make their way around the back to peer into the garden they would have seen meticulously set out rows of herbs and ingredients, now beginning to be threatened with being overrun and choked by faster growing weeds. It was as though the house had been inhabited, cared for until a few weeks previous, whereupon the owners had suddenly vanished, leaving the house and garden to their own devices.

To further the impression of emptiness, there were no lights on, no fire, despite the freezing, dark winter's evening. The house was cold, the only illumination coming from the flickering bulb in the lamppost across the road. A fine layer of dust covered the comfortable, though simple furnishings. The air was still and musky with the scent of disuse. Yet, for all that the house seemed abandoned, there was still life inside.

One of the armchairs that sat in front of the fire was inhabited. Around it lay the evidence of long occupation, empty bottles, dirty dishes, a few scattered tomes, none of them volumes you might find on the shelves of Flourish and Blotts. There was the remains of at least one shattered glass, thrown in anger, or perhaps grief. It was hard for the figure that sat there to tell the two apart, they'd gone hand in hand for him for so many years.

He'd barely left the chair for days, even sleeping there, only leaving the room to use the bathroom; not the shower, although he desperately needed one. He'd sat and brooded for hours in silence, occasionally jumping up to pace round the room in a fury, only to slump back down when he burned out once more. He refused to cry. It had been a long time since he'd done so, and had made no difference then. That had been over a woman too, although a different one than was the root of the problem this time.

The air of neglect that hung around the house was not the same that it had been 10 years previous. Then the furniture had been shabby and worn, the carpets threadbare. The house had been rarely cleaned since he'd spent most of his time at Hogwarts. The gloomy oppression had been alleviated somewhat with the refurbishment, although it had never fully left. There were far too many bad memories in the house for that, not all of them decades old.

The redecoration had been all her idea, of course. He couldn't have cared less whether the furniture and manky carpets stayed or went, as long as he didn't have to fork out for it, and he'd told her so when she asked for permission. The only things he'd told her to leave alone were his books and bookshelves, and his lab under the stairs. She'd never been allowed down there anyway, and the only thing she would have ever considered doing with the bookshelves would have been to add more.

So she'd thrown away anything she'd not been able to transfigure, and bought the rest, in what he'd recognised as a vain attempt to make herself feel less miserable in this house. That most, if not all, of her unhappiness had been his fault was not a fact that was lost on him. He'd driven her away, she'd only stayed as long as she had because of that damn Ministry law, although she'd been all too eager to marry him in the first place.

The seat opposite his, where she'd usually sat alone in the evenings, had born the worst of his anger. He'd slashed the material, broken the wooden frame so many times over the past few days, but always, once his anger at her desertion had abated, he would repair it once more. Why, he did not know. His hope that she would return to him was yet another futile wish that this house had watched wither and die. It seemed to collect such things; unhappy memories and destroyed hopes and dreams.

He had dreamed once, of a girl so beautiful and bright, so utterly different from the darkness that had always lurked in his childhood home. He had hoped for so many years to win her love, only to have his worst enemy steal her from him. His wish then, had been to protect her, and when he had failed at that, to protect her son. At least in this he had succeeded, although the victory would always be bittersweet for him. He'd cared nothing for the boy, only for her. He had survived his own death through foresight and skill in the craft he had always been so talented at, and later been found innocent of his crimes, this second time with the help of the boy.

And then the Ministry, in its wisdom, had decided that the population had been so affected by the second wizarding war, that they quickly and quietly introduced and passed a marriage law. Due to his longstanding friendship with someone in the know, he had learned a few months beforehand about the new law. When he realised that he himself would be required to find a bride, he had known at once who it would be. Not because he felt anything for her, but because he was enough of a bastard not to care whether she was happy or not. He'd been completely selfish in his choice, assuming that someone as young and as inexperienced at life as she would be easier to manipulate, especially as it was not all that long since he had held authority over her as her teacher.

The fact that their marriage would horrify Potter and his redhead sidekick had filled him with glee. If only they had known the dirty little fantasies she had concocted about her potions professor during lessons. It had been far too easy to slip into her mind in idle moments to watch her imaginings, and despite the fact that she was clearly inexperienced, he had often had to hide behind the desk until the students left and jerk off quickly between lessons. It had been one of the highlights of his week, as between the Dark Lord and Dumbledore, the rest of his life had been pretty miserable. Of course he hadn't been a complete hermit, occasionally sweet talking some of the Dark Lord's followers, or wives into bed when he was in the mood. He'd only bothered to satisfy them if he thought them worth a repeat visit.

Of course, they were nothing like _her_ , young, sweet and pure, despite all the horrors she'd been though. After his role as a spy had been made public he'd been a hero, collecting his Order of Merlin even as he planned how to use it best for his own advantage. He'd enjoyed a few of the women that had thrown themselves at him then, usually the married ones as they were less likely to want more or to go spreading tales. As soon as the marriage law had come into effect he'd not touched anyone besides her, he was too focused on getting her, and didn't want her hearing rumours about his flings with other women.

Up until then he'd kept her at arm's length, not wanting to actually take her to bed as he knew she would be one of those women who wanted more, but at the same time he hadn't wanted anyone else to have her. So he'd struck up a sort of friendship with her, occasionally flirting and carefully keeping her interested. He'd purposefully begun courting her before the news of the law came out so that she would believe him sincere. It hadn't taken much for her to believe herself in love with him, and he'd shamelessly encouraged her with no regard for her feelings.

She'd been his only choice, far better than the worn out hags that pursued him, and judging by her so he'd wooed her furiously. Her innocence only meant that she would have few expectations of him, and he hadn't cared less about taking it from her in such a selfish act. The world had treated him badly for years, and now he was only getting what he deserved. He would have the darling of the wizarding world, one of the golden trio and a hero in her own right as his wife, and he would laugh in the faces of all those who, over the years, had called him names, treated him like dirt, and only thought the worst of him.

In hindsight, he now realised that even then he had already started to feel something for her, although he had dismissed it as just wanting to deny anyone else the pleasure of plucking her. As soon as they'd married he'd changed, no longer the solicitous and caring friend – then fiancée. He'd been so careful not to show her who he truly was until then, that his 'performance' during his time as potions master was actually nothing of the sort. He was a bastard, mean and selfish, and didn't really care, as long as he got what he wanted.

And then it had all gone wrong. When exactly he had missed his chance for happiness he wasn't quite sure, although he was fairly certain he wouldn't be getting another. Perhaps it had been the day they had married. His cruel response to her declaration of love that evening hadn't been the first and certainly not the last foul thing he had done or said to her, although it was the first since he had decided to court and win her.

It had soured every moment of their marriage afterwards. She had never said anything outright, yet she'd never been a pushover. In all other aspects of her life she excelled, in her job, at keeping his home and everything else. She'd argued with him when she felt it was needed, over money, over work around the house that needed doing, but she'd never again mentioned feelings, or expected anything from him on that score, not even when she did her duty in his bed. But in every look or word she gave him he could see her anguish and hopelessness at her situation. She was skilled enough at hiding it, but he'd long been an expert at reading between the lines.

The Ministry, under pressure from a large number of witches and wizards who were unhappy in their marriages, had eventually repealed the Act a few years later, and agreed to dissolve any union upon application. It was only then, when she had brought the form to him to sign, that he had realised his mistake. He had taken her for granted. What he had believed to be familiarity and habit he now realised were actually some stronger emotion, something that he dare not look too closely at, in case he didn't like it.

So he'd not taken the chance to ask her to stay, and had said nothing to keep her from going. She had taken the completed papers with her, giving him one last sad look and opening her mouth for a moment as if she wanted to say something, but hadn't. He'd realised later that afternoon that she'd already emptied her room, taking nothing else from their shared life together. She'd made their home comfortable, but other than that he'd not let her leave her mark anywhere in the house. The books, the old pictures on the walls, the few items that stood on the mantelpiece were all his. He'd sat on the bed to take a moment to look around the room he had barely stepped foot in since they'd married and heard a crack beneath him.

Pulling the item out from beneath the blankets he'd found the one personal item she'd left behind, though whether by accident or design he didn't know. It was a framed photo, the glass now creaked clear across. Their wedding day. She'd looked up at him with a smile as he bent down to kiss her. The couple then had turned to the camera, his bride grinning with happiness, while he'd smirked nastily when she couldn't see.

Why she'd kept and framed such a photo he didn't know, although he could understand why she wouldn't have wanted to take such a reminder with her when she left. It now stood on the mantelpiece where he could see it in his own misery. Perhaps they were the same in that it had reminded her of what she couldn't have, as much as it presently did for him.

He'd realised then, as he'd looked down at that photo for the first time since their wedding, that the strange emotion he'd not wanted to examine was love. He, Severus Snape, was in love with the wife that he'd ignored and mistreated for years. But she had already had him fill out the papers, and could be filing them at the Ministry at any time. Once their marriage had dissolved she would probably never want to see him again. In a flash he decided to go after her, beg her for one last chance before she completed the divorce.

He would prove to her that he could be the husband she had longed for. He would prove how much he loved her. He should have realised how he felt earlier, and taken the chance to treat her better. It surely wouldn't have taken much to have won her over. The occasional bunch of flowers and some chocolates, all women loved those sorts of romantic gestures. She was probably so starved of affection that it wouldn't take more than that. Maybe he could be a little less selfish in bed as well. He'd try anything, as long as it got her back where he wanted her.

But he'd just been leaving the house when he had felt his wedding ring burn and slip off his finger. She must had gone straight to the Ministry from his house for it to have gone through so quickly. He'd picked up the platinum band before retreating back inside, and not left the house since. The only reason he'd eaten anything was that for some reason Minerva had started sending a house elf with food. How she knew to do so, he didn't know, as she hadn't been in to see him. There had been one or two bangs on the door at some point, he remembered, but he'd not even got up to look to see who it was, and they'd just gone away each time. The wards he'd set on the house were fairly impenetrable, unless you were as skilled as he in the Dark Arts.

He knew, on some level at least, that he would have to stop wallowing and get on with it at some point. His potions business, while profitable, would not run itself, and there were at least a few contracts that he'd already missed the deadlines for. It was far from the professional standards he was usually strict to maintain.

But for now, he wasn't ready to stop moping and sober up. The entirety of the past few years seemed to be paying over and over in his mind, like a pensieve stuck on repeat with no way out. He'd tried and failed to think of a way to win her back, but nothing seemed to him to be enough. He'd tried apologising once before, to his first love, but she'd refused to speak to him again, all over a single word. How much more would he have to do for a couple of years of neglect and abuse? Perhaps it wasn't possible.

He reached for the last bottle that lay by his feet and opened it. Taking a long swig he grimaced as it burned his throat going down. Maybe once he had nothing left to drink it he would decide what to do next. But for now, the best he could hope for was to find oblivion at the bottom of his bottle and try for just a short time, to forget her.

* * *

 

 

It's been such a long time since I posted I thought I'd let you know what's happening. I'm in the middle of my PGCE (teaching certificate). I've been on a placement in school since Christmas, as well as doing 3 major assignments and everything that come along with all of those. (I'm well on my way to getting an outstanding/distinction which will be a major plus when going for a job, so I don't want to slack off now.) I have been slowly adding to the next chapter of this story when I've had a few moments spare, but it's slow going.

I just wanted to reassure you that I haven't given up on this, nor will I. One of my deadlines is this coming Sunday, and after that I will be away from home for 2 weeks on another placement, although I don't have to teach and my final two assisgnments are far less time consuming. I will also be away from all the distractions of home, and I hope to finish and post the chapter I'm currently on, and possibly another in those 2 weeks.

Sorry again for the lack of update, and looking forward to being able to get back to this soon!

 

Flo x


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

Thanks everyone for the lovely reviews and the encouragement to write more. Clearly, I am continuing the story. A few people have mentioned writing something from Hermione's POV, but since my other fic is mainly from her POV I really want to do this one from his. What I do plan on doing, however, is writing a one or two shot from her POV to fit in.

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

He was halfway through the bottle now, and it was clear that it would not be enough for blissful oblivion. His head was spinning though, and he was too drunk to even move from the chair, let alone find another bottle. He just seemed to be unable to stop thinking, to stop going over the past few years, viewing his sins in vivid detail.

With a sigh he stopped fighting and let the memories come once more.

* * *

_2 years, 10 months earlier (2 years and 6 months after the Battle of Hogwarts)_

Severus had agreed to her suggestion of an after-work drink that Friday night, despite having been asked to pop in to see Lucius later in the evening. Not that it was necessarily after work for him, as the owner of a successful potions business he made his own hours. Hermione, however, worked in the Ministry, in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Her reputation for hard work and thorough research, as well as being a ridiculously soft touch when it came to others who came to her for help, had led her to being a general workhorse for anyone who came to her with a good enough story for why they couldn't do their own job.

She claimed she let them get away with it because she was looking to rise up through the ranks enough to make a difference, but Severus knew that wasn't how it worked in the Ministry. It was who you knew, not how hard you worked. Yet he let her moan time after time without giving her any real advice. He found it amusing to watch her get riled up at the ineptitude of her co-workers. She was even more stunning when riled up, her cheeks flushed and eyes blazing. He could barely take his eyes off her in such moments.

His reason for maintaining his friendship with her was actually twofold. On one hand, despite his hero status, there were still those who distrusted him, and by regularly meeting with the darling of the wizarding world in public (never privately – he didn't trust himself enough) was good for his reputation and therefore his business.

The second reason – he wanted her, blushing little virgin that she still was at the age of 20, and yet at the same time he didn't. She wasn't the type of girl you took to bed a few times then discarded. She would expect something far more from him; commitment, and that he wasn't willing to give, not to her or anyone. He was far too selfish and self-serving to be in a relationship. He wasn't interested in indulging the romantic wishes of a needy companion, but he was more than happy to take advantage of some of the attractive women that threw themselves at him, and why shouldn't he? He'd spent the last twenty years barely tolerated and close to universally hated or feared, while working tirelessly to save everyone's arses. Twenty years was a long time.

Of course the rumours were not true – that he'd stayed celibate as a way to honour the woman he loved – but it did mean that there were plenty of women who wanted to be that 'special one' who would teach him to love again. That would never happen, his heart was as faithful to Lily as it had been the day she died, and no desperate tart was going to change that. That didn't mean he wasn't going to take advantage of his status as a hero, although he'd always been careful to only bed women who would, for whatever reason, keep their trysts quiet. However, on occasion, he wasn't above using either obliviation or some other spell on some particularly stunning specimen of the female persuasion.

Either way, he wasn't going to complain. Whether he was limited to married women and those with something to hide or not, it was still better pickings than he had become used to during his time as a spy. Female Death Eaters were not a particularly attractive bunch – he couldn't even think about the time that the Carrow bitch had tried to come on to him without wanting to vomit – and the wives of the male Death Eaters were generally not much better. They had been married for their 'pure' blood and family connections rather than their beauty, the most notable exception being Narcissa – and Bellatrix too, he supposed, before Azkaban and insanity stole her youth and good looks from her. Not that he'd ever thought twice about sleeping with her. He much preferred to keep his balls intact, thank you very much.

Narcissa, on the other hand, had been an excellent fuck, and he'd even made the effort to please her as well as himself in the hope she'd come back for more. Of course she'd stopped once she realised she wasn't going to get any useful information out of him to help her husband's schemes, but it had been good while it lasted, and had never affected the friendship between himself and the Malfoy patriarch. All was fair in love and war. It wasn't like he hadn't done the same thing himself. Half the time he'd only slept with any of them for information, and rest of the time mainly to piss off their husbands. He'd also accepted that they were also only sleeping with him for the same reasons, but he'd never been on to look a gift horse in the mouth.

That was one of the reasons he seemed to be unable to put Hermione out of mind and out of his life. For some strange reason, she actually seemed to find him utterly irresistible, and it wasn't for his social status, as she was even more highly regarded than he. But despite the fact he'd like nothing more than to fulfil the dirty fantasies he'd been sneakily spying on in her mind since her 5th year at Hogwarts, he was far too mindful of his status to let it happen. Knowing the way the press still hounded all three members of the 'golden trio' – he couldn't even think the name without a sneer – any dalliance he had with the girl would no doubt be in the papers the next morning. She was watched quite carefully for any hint of a relationship since both Potter and his sidekick were engaged. Severus may have been a hero for his part in the second wizarding war, but he had no doubt public opinion would turn against him if he seduced her and then ran.

Besides, she was one of the very few people he could actually tolerate. Lucius was a good friend, and by no means stupid, but he was no intellectual, despite having a library Severus would kill for. Hermione, on the other hand, was a good conversationalist, enjoyed a lively debate, and was well on her way to being as widely read as he was. At Hogwarts it had only been her position in Gryffindor and at the side of Potter that had kept him from treating her like the outstanding student she was, She was the pupil he'd always wished for, and had they lived in a world that had never heard of Voldemort, he would have done his best to take her under his wing, and she may now have been pursuing a very distinguished career in potions rather than wasting her time at the Ministry.

He'd made it very clear, many times what he thought of her job, but she always often seemed to arrange to meet him when she had something particular to moan about, as if she thought she needed an excuse to do so. Severus would have been happy to turn up for any reason, or none at all, as he liked to keep an eye on her and make sure her head wasn't being turned by some young man. Besides, he would always go home with some new wank fodder for the nights he slept alone, and the meeting was worth that if nothing else.

She had a habit of chewing on her bottom lip, especially when she was listening to him speak. It drove him crazy, watching those plump lips swell, and sometimes he could barely keep track of what he was saying for wondering what they would feel like around his cock. She always won more discussions than she ought because of the distraction those lips caused. And then he would take great pleasure in dipping into her mind to see what new fantasies his touch had invoked.

Occasionally he would be disappointed with some mushy romantic scene, but he noticed that the more he touched her, the more likely she would be imagining the two of them in some compromising situation. She had quite the imagination, and although it was clear that she had read up on the subject, she was obviously still untouched, as he'd seen some things that were practically impossible. She'd frigged herself raw, he knew, over one particular book with moving illustrations while thinking of him. He'd been very grateful for the table between them when he'd seen that and he'd had to excuse himself early that evening.

Her imaginings often came to mind as he was ploughing his latest conquest, and he would imagine her young, supple form beneath his. More than once he'd only just caught himself from moaning her name as he spewed his seed into whatever willing witch he'd snared that evening. Only when he was alone would he allow himself to come with her name on his lips. It was a wonder, what with the girl's fertile imagination, that he hadn't just given in and had her already. It was also amazing that he managed to win any arguments at all.

Of course, if he had his wits about him, it wouldn't take much to create a similar distraction for her. He would always make sure to brush against her occasionally, or touch her hand mid-sentence and enjoy the way she would bite down on her lip even harder even as her eyes went dark with desire. He would make her blush occasionally by obviously checking out her lovely round arse or letting his eyes drop to her décolletage. He would always act the gentleman, offering her his arm, lending her his coat if it was cold out, as well as any number of small things that could be taken as an expression of interest, or even a very slow courtship.

He had no issue with leading her on, even though he had no intention of pursuing her. It was perverse, he knew, and he was an utter bastard for doing it, but he didn't really care. He liked to know that such a woman – endowed with both brains and beauty - was saving herself for him when she could have her pick of many younger and more handsome wizards than him. Perhaps she believed that because he was older, and clearly a traditionalist considering who his friends were and his part actions, that he wouldn't want her if she wasn't a virgin. Times were changing, but the wizarding world was still a lot more conservative than the muggle one. In any case, it was a novel experience, being wanted in such a way, and he would do what he could to keep her interested as long as he could.

* * *

He was replying the latest scene from her mind even as he disapperated to Malfoy Manor. He'd seen Hermione back to the flat she'd found as soon as she could afford to move out of Grimmauld Place and away from the sickening public displays of affection from her idiot friends and their respective girlfriends. He usually walked her back, but this evening she'd been slightly tipsy so she'd clung tightly to his arm all the way back. He'd been able to feel her fingers gently stroking the fabric of his sleeve, although, from a look at her expression, he wasn't sure she was even aware she was doing it.

As he'd bent down to kiss her hand in goodbye, he'd looked up into her eyes for a brief moment and automatically slipped into her mind, viewing her surface thoughts the way he found so easy after so many years of performing Legilimency. He'd caught a glimpse of a fantasy where he took her in his arms and kissed her, pushing her into the house and pressing her up against the door he'd closed behind him before taking her with abandon. Even as he strolled through the overly ornate gardens in the bright moonlight towards the front door, was thinking about the way her long legs had wrapped around his waist, and he'd reached down to position his cock at her entrance and…

"Ah, Severus!"

He scowled as Lucius appeared from out of the darkness behind the end of a hedge and spotted him interrupting his lewd imaginings with a muted greeting. Severus grumbled under his breath, sending clouds of vapour around his face in the cold air, before striding forward to greet his friend.

"What's the matter? You look as if someone's stolen your favourite cauldron," Lucius said as he came closer. He peered as Severus' face. "I remember now, you were meeting the delectable Miss Granger this evening. I recognise that expression, it's not all that different than the one you used to sport back when you were pining over that mud… muggle girl…"

"Don't, Lucius," he growled.

His friend knew when to move on. "Anyway, isn't it about time you took that girl to bed and got her out of your system?"

Severus just looked at him levelly. Lucius was more that aware of Severus' struggle concerning Hermione, as well as his reasons for not seducing her. His friend agreed with him that it would be a stupid move, although it was not just because he still held a lot of his old prejudices, but he found Severus' dilemma a source of constant amusement.

"Did you have something to speak to me about, or did you invite me here just to keep me out in the cold?

Lucius smirked. "Ah, yes," he drawled, lifting his cane and examining the end nonchalantly. "I have had some news from… friends… in the Ministry.

"What you and your lackeys discuss is unlikely to be of any consequence to me, unless it will affect my business."

"Oh, but it will concern you… not your business, but you personally, before too long, as well as a large part of the wizarding population."

"Go on…" he growled.

Lucius turned, using his cane to gesture towards the house. "Shall we go in? I think a strong drink may be in order.

The two men set off towards the house. "This had better be important, Lucius," Severus growled. He could have been at home having a good wank.

It's actually the reason I've been taking an evening 'stroll'. I spoke to Narcissa and Draco about it at dinner, and neither are particularly happy."

"You mean Narcissa is fuming, and you've escaped to the garden to hide," he sneered.

Lucius shrugged slightly. "She'll calm down soon enough, and most likely be up half the night planning. I thought it best to waylay you out here so we could sneak into my study quietly.

Severus grimaced. He had always been of the opinion that no news was good news, and if whatever Lucius had to say affected not only him, but turned Narcissa, a woman who had played host to a raving lunatic for a year, into a fury, then it must be bad indeed.

A short while later he was standing in front of the fireplace in Lucius' comfortable study, fighting his growing concern and thoughts of _her_. Silence had reigned for a few minutes, Lucius sipping his drink quietly in his chair while Severus tried to process all he'd just learned.

"What do you mean by appropriate age?" he said eventually. "Surely I'm too old to be…"

"It will affect all unmarried witches and wizards between the ages of twenty and fifty-five, unless a witch can prove that she is beyond her childbearing years."

"And is there no similar get out clause for those wizards who are unable to… procreate?" There was at least one potion he could think of that would do the trick.

"No, they are well aware there are ways to fake results, and the Ministry is extremely worried. The birth rate has dropped rapidly, although the percentage of squibs has risen. So many lives were lost, on both sides of the war. So many pureblood families were all but destroyed, and the half-bloods or lesser tend to not marry as young, so the number of marriages has fallen to almost as low as any time on record. Even couples who are already married and have had children will be expected to try for more, if they are of the right age."

"So that's what has Narcissa riled up."

"No, Narcissa would love to have another child, but it has always been usual for the Malfoy line to produce only one heir, so we do not expect anything to come of it."

"Then what…?"

"The Ministry has decided, as a way to encourage integration and stop another war – over blood purity, at least – that no one can marry someone with the same blood status. You, as a half-blood, will need to find a m… muggle-born, or a pureblood, whereas Draco…"

"…will have to find a muggle-born or half-blood. No wonder Narcissa is angry, neither of your families has had a drop of muggle blood enter it in a couple of centuries at least." He looked at his friend, who seemed fairly unconcerned. "I must say, you seem to be taking it better than I expected. What will Draco do now? I though he was well on his way towards an engagement with the Greengrass girl."

"Oh, that's still not quite the reason Narcissa is wound up," Lucius smirked. "Since the new law, in particular the mixing of those with differing blood status, affects those who are not already married. Therefore Draco has already gone to speak to Astoria this evening, and we are sure she will agree to an extremely short engagement rather than miss out on marrying a Malfoy. Of course, Narcissa is panicking over the fact that she will have less than two months to arrange their wedding."

Severus rolled his eyes. "I can imagine."

"And what of you, my friend. If you like, I know of a few women of good breeding who would be more than happy to vie for your hand, as a half-blood with your social status and wealth. Although you may have to spend some of it on buying a house somewhat nicer than that muggle hole you still live in." He took another sip of his whisky before continuing. "What on earth is stopping you from getting rid of that place anyway. You should be able to afford something quite decent by now."

Severus grimaced. As good a friend as Lucius was, he still hadn't grasped the fact that Severus really cared nothing at all for blood status, and certainly nothing at all for a pureblood wife who would expect far more from him, in both money and behaviour, than he was willing to give. In fact, there had only been one woman on his mind since the first moment Lucius had explained what was coming, although he was still not convinced there wouldn't be some way to get out of the whole mess. He was happy with his life the way it was, and he didn't need a wife to get in his way.

Yet the thought of _her_ , of having her for his own, to take to his bed, was quite appealing. If he had to marry someone, it would be none other but her, the woman he'd denied himself for so long. All of his objections to having her faded in the light of the information Lucius had given him. She'd be far easier to manipulate than an older woman, experienced not only in the bedroom but also brought up to scheme and use her wiles to get her own way, as the women from the pureblood families all were. But he would have to be quick to act. It would be foolish of him to wait until the law came out to pursue her. He didn't want her to think that he was only doing so because of it. She was wilful, and proud enough to refuse him despite her infatuation with him if she believed him to be less than sincere. He needed to think, to plan his next step.

"I must go, Lucius," he replied, ignoring what his friend had asked. "I have things to arrange." He threw back the rest of his drink and set the glass down on the mantelpiece.

Lucius stood, surprise at Severus' sudden departure evident on his face. "But what of your wife-to-be? Do you want me to arrange a few meetings so you can take your pick?"

"That will not be necessary. I have already made my choice."

"But...? Already? Who have… wait, Severus! Please tell me you don't mean the Granger girl?"

He followed Severus out of the room as he made his way to the front door. Severus' lack of response only confirmed his suspicions.

"You can't be serious! She's no good for anything more than a quick tumble. You need a woman of good breeding who'll bring you a good dowry and a place among the pureblood families."

He earned nothing more than a glare as Severus took his cloak from the waiting house elf and swung it round his shoulders.

"You have time before the law is introduced. Bed the girl and get her out of your head. In the meantime I'll draw up a list of suitable brides. Perhaps I can arrange for you to meet them all at Draco's wedding, that way you can compare and choose the one you like best."

"If that is an invitation to your son's wedding, then I will be honoured to accept. But for the rest, I have no interest in your pureblood bitches, so you may save yourself the trouble." He turned to leave.

"Don't be foolish Severus. Why have a mule when you can have a thoroughbred mare? You won't think twice about her once you've got another witch warming your bed. The girl will be looking for her own husband soon enough and she'll forget about you just as quickly."

It was the wrong thing to say. It only made him more determined.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer:See Chapter 1  
Thanks for all the lovely comments. It's really encouraging to hear your feedback, and I'm glad everyone seems to be enjoying itso far. I'm certainly having fun writing it.

* * *

 

 

Severus shifted uncomfortably. All the drink was making him need to pee, but he wasn’t sure he’d make it without falling over flat on his face. His eyes fell on an empty bottle lying near his feet. Perhaps he could use it to… No, even as pissed as he was, he had more self-respect than that. Carefully he managed to push himself to his feet and stood there swaying unsteadily, his bottle clutched tightly to his chest.

 

Concentrating hard on what he was doing with his feet, he shuffled slowly towards where one section of the bookcases swung open, revealing the usually hidden way through to the kitchen and the stairs leading upstairs. He only spared the latter a quick glance as he went past. There was no way he was getting up there and back down again in one piece.  

 

As he passed through into the kitchen he staggered, tripping over his own feet and whacking his shoulder hard against the doorframe. He grunted with the pain, and barely managed to stop himself dropping his precious cargo. Deciding it would be a good idea to leave it somewhere safe for a few moments while he dealt with his problem, he gingerly set the bottle down on the nearest kitchen surface. After a moment’s contemplation he extended one finger and pushed it slowly to the back of the counter, just in case it decided to fall off by itself.

 

He finally made it to the tiny toilet that had been built onto the back of the house at some point, replacing the original outbuilding. Propping himself up with one arm against the wall he opened his trousers to do his business, steadfast ignoring the haggard image that stared back at him from the mirror. He knew he looked like shit. He’d never been much to look at in any case, and the drink and current lack of personal hygiene did him no favours. What _she_ had ever seen in him to begin with was a complete mystery, although it may be worth further thought, especially if he was to win her back.

 

He finished, doing up the front of his trousers with care, pleased with himself for not abandoning his dignity and using the empty bottle.

 

It wasn’t until he turned around to wash his hands that he realised he’d pissed in the sink.

 

_2 years, 9 months earlier._

 

Severus had watched her growing confusion over the past few weeks, as she’d tried to understand the change in his behaviour. He’d been laying it on stronger and stronger for the past four weeks now, although he hadn’t yet declared his interest. She was still trying to keep her feelings in check by constantly telling herself she was misunderstanding him, and he could never possibly want her. Yet she couldn’t stop the hope blossoming within her as he began to woo her.

 

After leaving Lucius’ that evening he’d left himself the next week to mull over the situation and plan out what he was to do, as he had a whole week before they had arranged to meet again. At least his behaviour towards Hermione so far had been relatively solicitous, even if he had held her at arm’s length. Of course, taking the relationship to the next step would need careful thought. It was how to go about making the change from friendship to something more that was the problem. It needed to be done right, to seem like a natural progression from their current standing into. Severus had never set out to attract any woman besides Lily before, and wasn’t quite sure how to go about it.

 

He had actually frittered away far too much time thinking about what he would do with her once he had her. Now that he had her in his sights and was preparing to seduce her he couldn’t seem to stop his thoughts running wild. It had been an effort to stop the fantasising and start to figure out what to do to actually get her into his bed.

 

He’d devoured the couple of classic romances his mother had left amongst her collection of books, hoping for some inspiration, and had noted that many of the heroines enjoyed being swept away with some ridiculous romantic gesture. He’d used the knowledge to plan out the evening where he would formally declare his interest. As for getting to that point, well he’d just turn up the charm a bit, throw in a rose or something… maybe a book or two. She liked books.

 

That first meeting had been the hardest. Even with all of his preparation it had been hard to judge what was appropriate. He didn’t want to come across as desperate, or Merlin forbid, needy. Her fantasies involving him made it very clear in what sort of light she viewed him. She liked the dark, domineering side of him. The element of danger, the feeling of power surrounding him was what really made her wet between the legs. She was a strong witch herself, her aura sometimes crackled with it when she was wound up. She needed a wizard more powerful than her. It was why a relationship with the Weasely idiot would never have worked, he would never have been enough for her.

 

So he’d started his campaign by suggesting a different bar to meet at that evening. The furnishings were a touch more luxurious, the lighting dimmer but not too dark. He’d been even more fastidious in his appearance than usual, making sure to arrive early enough that he could choose a secluded corner before the bar started filling up. She’d been delighted with the gift of a particularly rare book that he’d pretended he’d found by chance when he’d actually spent ages searching for it in order to add to his own collection. It would come back to him when they married he figured, so the loss was well worth it. Over the course of the evening he’d subtly shifted closer to her in the small booth, making sure that his touches lingered a fraction longer than usual, that he leant close enough that his breath stirred the hair on her neck as he whispered in her ear.

 

He’d rather enjoyed the view down her v neck jumper as her breathing had deepened with his increasing proximity. Her pupils, already wide in the dim light, had dilated even further as her arousal grew. The high point had come near the end of the evening when he’d leaned over to say something, and at the same time she’d turned her head to do the same, and they’d suddenly found themselves face to face, only a few inches away from each other.

 

She’d bitten down hard on her lip as she’d frozen, eyes locked on his for a few moments, before a loud noise at the next table distracted her and she looked away. In those seconds Severus had managed to slip into her head and had got a fair idea of how the evening had gone. She’d not consciously picked up on his change in behaviour, although she’d been affected by it. He’d found it hard not to smirk as he caught sight of what she planned to do with the new vibrator later that evening. Hermione had found it hard to meet his eyes after that, and the evening had soon after drawn to a natural close. He’d gone home that evening feeling very satisfied with himself.

 

She’d suggested meeting again the following Saturday, being busy on the Friday, and he’d agreed, but after two days he was so impatient to move on with reeling her in that he’d contrived to meet her as she left the Ministry that Tuesday. He had a contract with the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes to supply them with a few rarer potions that they sometimes needed, although he usually sent one the lackeys that worked for him. That day, he’d taken them in himself, made sure to bump into her accidentally at the lifts (after the use of several different charms and an hour of waiting). He’d mentioned that he was planning on grabbing a meal out, as he’d not had time to prepare anything, so much had gone wrong that day, oh and would she like to join him?

 

It had been the first proper meal they’d eaten out together, he didn’t count the times they’d grabbed snacks from the bar menu, and it had been another successful evening. She’d been worried that she wasn’t suitably dressed for dinner, but he’d made her blush furiously by telling her she looked stunning. He had taken her to a restaurant, carefully chosen beforehand, where she wouldn’t feel underdressed or out of place in what she was wearing. He’d turned up the charm another notch, and when he’d walked her home he’d wrapped his cloak around her and tucked her under his arm the moment she’d shivered in the cold December air.

 

That evening had started a precedent, and at least twice a week since they’d met up, now usually for a meal rather than drinks. They had only gone to restaurants with a relaxed atmosphere so far, since they’d continued to go eat after she’d finished work. Tonight, however, being a Saturday, he’d told her they were going somewhere special, and that she needed to dress up. Tonight was the night that he made his intentions clear. Lucius had informed him that the law was now in the final stages of being drafted, and he knew he needed to get a move on before it was announced.

 

He’d asked Lucius to help him book a table at the most exclusive restaurant in wizarding London, near the river, and had planned a moonlit stroll afterwards. It was almost disgustingly romantic, but all the books seemed to indicate that women like this sort of thing. Mind you, it had almost been worth it just for his first glimpse of her as she opened her door to him. She’d tamed her rat’s nest, pulling it back to hang down the back of her neck, and the neckline of her black dress was low enough to provide him with a broad expanse of creamy skin that he’d never feasted his eyes on before. The dress was floor length, clinging to her curves perfectly, and in that moment he’d never wanted her so much. None of the women he’d been seeing could compare. She was stunning… and soon to be his.

 

She’d blushed under his scrutiny, greeting him shyly, before turning to reach for a cloak and purse that were laid over the hall table. Severus had got his second treat of the evening, as he’d caught sight of the back of her gown, or rather the lack of it. It had only taken a second for him to reach out to grab her cloak so he could help her put it on, giving him the chance to ‘accidentally’ brush the back of his hand against her shoulder-blade. Her skin was warm and soft, and he’d wondered what it would be like to be able to touch her freely, to run his hands over parts of her body that he had not yet seen.

 

She’d trembled at his touch, shifting quickly to face him once again, as if to mask her reaction. “Shall we go?” she’d asked brightly.

 

In reply he’d reached into a pocket in his own cloak and pulled out a single red rose, perfectly formed and protected with a charm, and proffered it to her. A flash of confusion had crossed her face, and had seemed uncertain as she’d reached out to take it, peering up into his face in an attempt to figure out why she was giving her such a gift. At first she hadn’t appeared to know what to do with it, but eventually she’d pulled out her wand, slicing off most of the stem, and had tucked the flower into her hair.

 

He’d offered his arm to her, and when she’d taken it, had apparated them a short distance from the restaurant. She’d been surprised when they’d finally arrived, frowning at some unknown thought. She obviously knew the reputation of this place, and how difficult it was to get in to, especially at the weekend, although was too polite to ask how he had managed it.

 

Dinner had been perfect, the food sublime, and their conversation interesting and intelligent, although once or twice she’d become quiet, clearly contemplating something as she concentrated on the meal in front of her. By the time he’d got her attention and she’d looked back up at him, she’d stopped thinking about what it was that was bothering her, as he’d discerned nothing when he’d slipped into her mind.

 

She’d been oblivious to his scrutiny as she’d polished off the last of her chocolatey dessert, and he’d sat back and enjoyed the view, enjoying most particularly the way her breasts moved in her low cut dress. He’d been so transfixed by the sight, wondering if she’d used a charm or had just let them hand freely, that as she’d reluctantly put down her spoon and looked across at him, she’d caught him blatantly checking her out. The resulting blush had spread across her chest as well as her cheeks, and to save her embarrassment he’d quickly mentioned his idea of a walk, and she’d agreed just as fast.

 

Now, they had been walking along the river in silence for some time as he built up the courage to broach the subject that was foremost on his mind. Glancing down at the small figure clinging to his arm, he could see that she was also deep in thought, a small furrow between her eyes as she looked out over the scene with blank eyes. He wished he could slip into her mind just then to see if there was something wrong, but her face was turned slightly away and he couldn’t see into her eyes.

 

They wandered slowly along the path for a few more minutes before reaching a quiet spot that Severus decided would be a perfect place. As he gently steered them to a halt, he took her hand from his arm and turned so they were facing each other, before taking a deep breath and preparing to speak.

 

“Severus?” She took the wind out of his sails by speaking first, although she was clearly nervous enough not to be able to look up at him, instead concentrating on where he was still holding her hand.

 

“Yes…?” He hated how his voice shook slightly.

 

“I… What is this, Severus? What’s going on?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“This…” She waved a hand around at their surroundings. “Tonight, dinner… everything. It wasn’t really until this evening that I realised… You’ve been acting strangely the past few weeks.”

 

“Strangely?” He felt suddenly defensive, and although she was giving him a perfect opening, it wasn’t in his plan and he struggled to know how to reply.

 

“Yes, going for meals, giving me roses and books. Why are you suddenly doing this? What’s changed?”

 

He stared at her for a few seconds in silence, lost for words. He’d had it all planned out, exactly what he wanted to say to convince her he felt something for her, without actually saying the words, and now it was all going wrong.

 

Her face fell when he failed to speak, and she stepped backwards, pulling her hand out of his. “I’m sorry, I don’t think… I can’t do this anymore.”

 

Now it was his turn to be confused. “Can’t do what?”

 

“This…” Hermione waved her hand between the two of them. “I don’t…”

 

She paused again, and he realised that she was on the verge of tears, when she looked up at him with big mournful eyes. Automatically he slipped inside her mind, and immediately realised what had her so wound up. For once there were no clear visuals, just a strong feeling of misery, and the only thing he had to compare it to, was how he felt about Lily. Her gaze fell again, breaking the link.

 

“I think you know… you must have realised by now… how I… I mean, a friendly drink every week or two I can manage, but all this…” She reached up to touch the rose in her hair. “I wish I could help the way I feel, Severus, but I can’t.”

 

To his horror a large tear fell from one eye and started to slide down a pale cheek. This was not the way it was supposed to go.

 

She continued speaking, taking another step back away from him. “I think I need some time… I need to move on. Maybe in a couple of months we can…”

 

He realised he was about to lose her. He needed to intervene quickly.

 

“Hermione…”

 

He stepped forward and rested his hands on her upper arms. She stopped talking immediately, her head bowed. She looked defeated, strangely resigned. He took his future in his hands, and started speaking.

 

“You’ve got it wrong.” He lifted a hand to her cheek and tried to brush away her tears. “I’m sorry, I’ve made a complete mess of this. I wanted to ask you… I want…”

 

She finally looked up at him as he paused, and he couldn’t but help thinking of Lily. She wasn’t her, could never replace her, but he couldn’t think of anyone he’d rather tie himself to. The girl was clever like Lily, cleverer even, and caring too, although she would never be as beautiful. No one was as beautiful as his Lily. He would made do with her, though. Young, smart and with a body that he couldn’t wait to claim, he would be a fool to let her go, despite the fact he would never love her the way she did him.

 

It was surely better for him that she felt so strongly. It would be easier to mould her into the wife he wanted, it would surely be simple enough to manipulate her. He’d learnt his lesson with Lily, never be the one to care more. That way only led to heartache. It never pricked his conscience that he would only be causing her the same anguish that he had suffered. As long as he had what he wanted, he didn’t care. He just hoped he wouldn’t need to profess feelings he didn’t have in order to get her.

 

“I want to ask your permission to be allowed to court you,” he blurted, inwardly cringing at his lack of finesse.

 

She blinked in confusion. “Court me…”

 

He may as well just go for it now. “Yes, with the eventual intention of asking you to marry me.”

 

She seemed stunned, although he wasn’t sure that her normally quick mind had quite caught up with that she had heard. “But… but you…”

 

He silenced her by leaning down and pressing his lips to hers. He had meant it to be only a quick kiss, but her mouth was as sweet as it looked and he couldn’t help wrapping his arms around her, and encouraging her to open her lips to him with gentle flicks of his tongue. Merlin, if her mouth tasted this good he couldn’t wait to have the rest of her. His intention to wait until after they were married was almost scuppered there and then. He’d not touched a woman since learning of the new law, so it was with some effort that he forgot all thoughts of apparating the two of them straight to his bedroom, and instead pulled back to ascertain his effect on her.

 

It was a moment before her eyes flickered open, and smugly he saw that she was at least at dazed as he felt. He waited with baited breath as she pulled herself together enough to speak, and when she did, it was clear that she was still struggling to comprehend quite what was happening.

 

“I don’t understand. I… I thought you didn’t like me… like that.”

 

He smiled down at her. “You were mistaken. Whatever gave you that impression?”

 

She chewed her lips for a moment, the little crease between her brows returning as she “All this time – we’ve been… friends, for a couple of years now, but you must have known how I felt. You never said anything, never made me believe for one second that you felt anything more than friendship for me. Why now, Severus?”

 

Now he felt on surer ground, having assumed she would ask this, and thought about his answer.

 

“I wanted to give you a chance; some time, to find… happiness, with someone… younger, more worthy of you. But I’ve realised I cannot just stand by and let you walk away without asking just once for a chance to court you. I know I am not handsome, or the most pleasant of men… (There, he had warned her) and I have more than a few years on you. You could have anyone you want, there are surely many out there far better than me.”

 

He let his head drop in mock sorrow. He was sure there was nothing more likely to work than a suggestion that he thought badly of himself. She was far too compassionate, too sentimental. It made her far too easy to manipulate.

 

She looked startled for a moment, before her face softened. “Oh Severus…” She lifted both hands and cupped his face. “There is no one else, only you. I don’t care how old you are, and it’s not like I’m under the impression that you’ve got a particularly… friendly personality. And just for the record, I disagree completely with you…” Her hands dropped from his face as she reached up to place a quick kiss on his lips. “I think you’re extremely handsome.”

 

Thank Merlin he was so good at hiding his true emotions, or he’d be looking ridiculously smug and pleased with himself right now.

 

“So… you mean…?”

 

She smiled generously as she slipped her arms around his waist, even as she blushed deeply once again. “I’ve wanted you for so long Severus. Yes, yes/ I don’t know precisely what it entails in the wizarding world, but, yes, you have my permission to… to court me.”


	4. Chapter 4

Sorry this chapter has been so long in coming. It just took ages to get right. Hope you enjoy!

 

Severus had made it back into the kitchen without any more mishaps, although he was now struggling not to throw up everything he’d drunk recently, having mistakenly taken a sip from a bottle of (thankfully) diluted bubotuber pus. It had been in a plain dark bottle, and he’d been so elated at having found a bottle of spirits that he’d missed he’d not even checked what it was. He couldn’t even blame her for leaving it where it might be mistaken for something drinkable. She’d asked him so many times not to leave his ingredients lying around in the kitchen, as he sometimes did when he’d just bought or collected them.

 

When he’d realised how much it had annoyed her he’d started doing it on purpose, at least until he’d come up from his lab to see why his dinner was late, and had found half-cooked and abandoned pans on the stove and no sign of her. It wasn’t until he spotted his freshly picked Deadlyius mushrooms that he’d left on the counter, strewn across the chopping board that he realised what she’d done. They were so similar looking to normal mushrooms it was no surprise that she’d picked them up without thinking, instead of the ones that she’d bought from the supermarket.

 

He’d removed them without a word to her about it, and when she’d finally reappeared and to finish cooking and serve dinner, she’d said nothing either. He’d noted how she’d tried to keep her left hand as hidden as possible as they’d eaten, but he’d spotted the redness covering her fingers and felt a slight pang of guilt about what he knew was sure to have been a nasty and painful reaction. From then on he’d done his best not to leave potions ingredients out, although he’d still forgotten on occasion. _Like this time…_ he thought, cursing his own stupidity as he fought not to retch. He grabbed the counter to steady himself until the need to do so had passed.

 

Gods, his mouth tasted like a flobberworm’s arse! He needed a drink to wash away the taste of the pus. Ignoring the tap, he shakily made his way to where he’d left his bottle. He was faintly disgusted with himself for feeling proud of the fact he’d managed to pick it up and put it to his lips on the first go. The incident with the rogue bottle had clearly sobered him up slightly. He needed more, quickly, as he wasn’t yet ready to face the world without a high alcohol to blood ratio.

 

 

2 Years, 5 months earlier.

 

By the time the news of the marriage law had finally hit the papers Severus had been getting fed up with courting and wanted nothing more than to just get on and marry the girl. He wasn’t made out for all the niceties that came with actually wooing a woman, rather than just bedding her. All the flirting and teasing he been doing with her was just as frustrating for him as it was for her. He’d never wanked so hard and so often in his life, and she was clearly in two minds about his decision not to touch her until they were married. She wanted him, desperately, but was flattered by his gentlemanlike behaviour.

 

 He’d been determined to wait for the law to come into force, however, as it would not only stop her from divorcing him as soon as she realised what an arse he really was, but would also guarantee him sex twice a week, even if they were barely on speaking terms, until three children had been produced. Not that there would be any. Severus had already taken care of that with an adapted dark spell that wouldn’t be traceable using the current techniques. And if, after some time, the Ministry started to question why there were no children, then he already had in mind an untraceable potion that he would be able to slip her to abort a child, making it look like a miscarriage. The Ministry was unlikely to force them to divorce if they couldn’t find any reason in either of them to stop a child being carried to full term. Severus was determined to reap all the benefits of the law, and avoid all the negatives.

 

Lucius had actually given him a couple of days’ warning before the law was published, and upon reflection he’d decided not to say anything to her until she came to him about it. He wanted to give the impression that he was unconcerned, that it didn’t affect him or his plans, and that it wasn’t worth a moment of his attention. But when he’d not heard from her by the next morning he’d started to grow worried. Had she guessed his scheme and decided to run out on his without a word or even an owl? By early evening of the second day he had worked himself up into a righteous fury, sure that she’d scarpered, the unfaithful cow.

 

When he’d turned up a few hours later at her front door he’d struggled to keep his composure. He’d wanted to be angry with her for not coming to him, but he couldn’t afford to act out the way he felt. He’d forced the emotion from his face as he banged on the door, but as it was flung open he’d not been able to prevent some of it showing. Luckily she’d misinterpreted it as worry, and when he’d risked a quick incursion into her surface thoughts he’d seen how relieved she was to see him. In the end it had turned out that she’d been worried that he would feel pressured into marrying her, and had tried to give him a bit of space.

 

Hermione had been fretting herself into a state since she’d seen the paper, thinking that he’d run from her. She’d recalled an old conversation between the two of them, a year or so previous, when he’d expressed an aversion to having children, and she’d assumed that he would leave the country rather than be forced to have at least three. Severus had had to do a lot of reassuring before she calmed down and began to believe him when he said he was more than prepared to adhere to the law and marry her as soon as they could arrange the wedding.

 

He’d even gone to the trouble of apparating back home quickly while she went to the bathroom to clear up her blotchy face, to grab the old paste diamond ring he’d found in his mother’s jewellery box. He had no idea whose it had been, but it beat spending the money on a new one, and the girl was sentimental enough that she’d loved the story he’d told her of how it had been passed down in his family for a couple of generations. He’d even gone down on one knee. She’d been ridiculously happy, of course, and he’d gone home later feeling awfully smug with himself. She’d not suspected a thing.

 

So the task of planning a wedding had started. Severus couldn’t really have cared less about dresses and decorations, as long as Hermione was in his bed at the end of it. His future bride wanted some time to prepare her dream celebration, even though he’d just wanted to get married as soon as possible. He would have been happy to have gone to the Ministry immediately; He’d already waited long enough. Lucius had actually managed to get the law pushed back a few weeks to give Narcissa time to arrange the lavish affair she’d had her heart set on ever since Draco had been born, and Severus wasn’t impressed that his friends’ selfishness had delayed his own ‘happy’ day by so long.

                                                                                                        

Severus had attended Draco’s wedding, although he’d absolutely hated it, thinking the whole thing ridiculously opulent and over the top – what self-respecting man would agree to such a nauseatingly pink and glittery themed wedding? What had Narcissa been thinking? Everyone else had thought the whole thing was stunning, but Severus had barely been able to touch anything in the worry that something might rub off on him. He’d almost gagged when he’d realised that both Lucius and Draco had pink incorporated into their dress robes. The former even had a ribbon in the same shade to tie back his hair. Even worse, they both seemed to rather like what they were wearing. It had only reinforced his long-held beliefs about the two of them. Lucius had always put too much thought into what he was wearing, and Draco had inherited his father’s love of his own reflection.

 

The whole affair had set him to worrying about his own upcoming nuptials. Merlin help him, he’d hoped Hermione wasn’t going to want anything like that. A nice simple ceremony was all he wanted, some quick vows, with the minimum amount of witnesses required, and the only celebration after being at home, in his bedroom. Women though, he understood, usually wanted far more, but he hoped that Hermione being the practical girl she was, would be easily persuaded otherwise.

 

Hermione had actually been invited to Draco’s wedding, but despite having forgiven the Malfoys, her memories of the Manor were still too vivid to allow her entry, even for such a celebration. So he’d taken the chance the next day when he saw her, to tell her about the grotesque display he’d been forced to attend, hoping to get some idea of what she was wanting, and to discourage any thoughts of a big wedding by declaring his abhorrence of such an idea.

 

Luckily Hermione had seemed to agree with him that the wedding sounded ghastly. She was generally a sensible girl, not prone to dreams of romantic nonsense or much of the juvenile silliness that most of her sex seemed to exhibit. For all her pureblood ‘sophistication’, Narcissa was actually no better than the empty-headed girls – Miss Brown came to mind, - that he’d taught or the past twenty years. It was just one way in which his Hermione showed herself to be far superior, and part of a growing list of reasons why he was glad he had managed to snare her.

 

Of course in the end, he’d not been able to persuade Hermione against having a small party, just a quiet dinner with the friends who had been invited to the ceremony. He’d been against even that, but had eventually agreed when she’d pointed out that they didn’t want to look like they were getting married only for the sake of the law. There had already been a large number of ‘quickie’ weddings, nothing more than a rushed and impersonal ceremony, as everyone hurried to snag the best partner they could find. The Weasley boy and Miss Brown had married a few weeks previous, as the latter was already pregnant, while Potter and Miss Weasley’s ceremony would be a few weeks after Severus’ own. Both of them had taken a while to come to terms with Hermione’s intention to marry him, although she had only let them stew for a month before harassing them into submission.

 

He’d seen Hermione’s point though, so he had to put up with the indignity of his bride being walked in by Potter, in front of a rather larger than he would have wished group of friends, most of whom were Hermione’s. The small contingent of Hogwarts’ teachers that had turned up had sat on his side of the hall, although he was sure they were really there for Hermione’s sake, rather than his. There had been no family on either side. His were all gone, or too distantly related for him to bother with, while hers were currently still sulking in Australia.

 

All of this meant that right now he was currently getting to the end of his tether with all the merriment around him. The only thing keeping him from going insane was the sight of his bride’s breasts, unbound and loose under her traditional wedding robe. He’d always suspected himself to be a masochist, but the way he’d been teasing himself with the thoughts of her, knicker-less and naked beneath the loosely fitting material was definitely a form of self-flagellation. It was taking all his self-restraint not to grab her and apparate directly to his room, especially when she reached across the table and a breast brushed against his arm.

 

He’d already wanked twice today, and still he felt as if he was ready to burst at the slightest touch from her. It was a couple of years since he’d admitted his attraction to her to himself, over 5 months since he had decided to have her – 5 months without the company of another woman. At least the ridiculous antics of his wife’s friends were enough of a distraction that he didn’t embarrass himself with a display of his bodily functions.

 

He watched with a sneer as several of the recently engorged Weasely clan started laughing at something Minerva had been quietly whispering to those around her. Something vulgar, he was sure, and no doubt aimed at himself, considering the way some of the group were stealing glances at him. The old hag may have appeared to be a dried up old prude to her students, but there was no one to match her for crudeness when she’d had a few to drink.

 

“Hurry up and leave, will you?” Lucius moaned in his ear. “It would be bad manners for the guests to depart so early with the bride and groom still here. You’ll force us to be rude if you don’t go soon.

 

Severus turned his head just far enough to make out all four of the Malfoy’s watching the mass of rowdy Gryffindors across the room with barely concealed disgust. “I agree, it’s time to leave. I can’t stand much more of this either,” he confided. “I only wanted a quick ceremony and to return straight back to Spinner’s End. But as you know just as well as I do, that it’s the appearance of it is that matters.”

 

Lucius muttered something incomprehensible as he turned back to Narcissa, and Severus looked back out over his guests. Most of them were well into their cups, and caught up in the spirit of the celebration. His gaze was drawn to the two that stood out; the youngest Weasely boy and his vacuous wife. The boy seemed barely aware of the merriment around him, instead alternating between scowling into his cup, nodding his head absentmindedly to whatever his wife was whispering in his ear, and glaring across the tables at Hermione.

 

Miss Brown – Mrs Weasely, rounder than normal with another red-headed brat growing inside her, was clearly trying to distract her husband from his sulk. Judging by the barely restrained look of fury that she was sporting, she knew exactly what his problem was, as did Severus. Hermione had told him, early in their friendship, how long it had taken Ron to get past the fact that she wasn’t interested in him, despite the single kiss they’d shared during the Battle of Hogwarts. What she hadn’t said, but what he had known for ages, was that she wasn’t interested because she had feelings for him. Severus had ascertained through snippets of conversation over the following years what Hermione being too naïve to realise for herself; that the boy had never gotten over her. He was convinced Weasely had only started seeing Miss Brown in a failed attempt to make Hermione jealous.

 

Smirking at his obvious distaste for the celebration, - Potter had unfortunately adjusted to the idea of his best friend marrying the dreaded dungeon bat quicker than Severus would have liked, so Severus had to get his kicks somewhere; he waited until the redhead’s gaze fell on him. When their eyes met, Severus pushed gently into his mind, seeing straight away that his suspicions about the boy’s feelings for Hermione were correct. Smug in the knowledge that he had got the girl for once, Severus quickly projected a scene back into Weasley’s mind.

 

As his mind filled with the image of the girl he coveted, writhing and moaning Severus’ name as he fucked her furiously, Weasely’s face turned red and splotchy. He turned away, breaking Severus’ contact with his mind, and standing so quickly he nearly knocked his wife in the face, he left the room, looking as if he was going to be sick.

 

Severus resisted the inane urge to poke his tongue out at the back of the retreating figure, and instead contented himself with a smirk. He glanced to his right to check that his bride hadn’t caught any of the exchange, but found her speaking in low undertones to her maid of honour, Miss Weasely, beside her. The girl was openly grinning, while Hermione’s cheeks were painted in a faint blush. When the former spotted Severus looking, she gently nudged her friend. Hermione looked round and when she realised she was being watched the colour on her cheeks deepened. _Interesting…_ he thought. _What were you talking about...?_ He pressed lightly into her surface thoughts, to find that the two of them had been discussing her upcoming… deflowering. Ginny had been giving her some tips, based on what she and Harry… He pulled out with a shudder. He did not need to know _that_ about Potter.

 

Hermione seemed to misinterpret his grimace, for she laid a comforting hand on his arm and leaned across with a smile. “Thank you for putting up with this for me, Severus. I know you don’t like parties. I think we’ve been here long enough if you want to go now.”

 

The redness in her cheeks was fading, and he found himself wanting to put it back again. Her embarrassment at her own innocence he found entrancing. He stood immediately, pulling her to her feet, and slipped his arm around her to hold her tight against him.

 

“I’ve been wanting to be alone with you all day,” he murmured into her ear, taking care to use his voice to full effect, wanting to see her response. She blushed prettily again, the red intensifying as others began to notice and call out to them. Thank Merlin it was time to leave; the self-restraint that he had been fostering for years where his new wife was concerned was about to snap.

 

“If you will excuse us… I believe it is time for my wife and I to be leaving.” He felt a thrill as she tucked her face into his chest in embarrassment. He could feel her breasts pressed up against him, and the thought that he would be granted free access to them - and more - in a matter of minutes made his heart beat faster in anticipation. He tightened his arm around her waist, and to the gentle cheers and good wishes of the other guests, he apparated them straight back to his house, and to his bedroom.

 

He gave her no chance to get her bearings, instead, his lips quickly descended on hers. He kissed her deeply, plundering her mouth until she was breathless and shaking in his arms. He pulled away for a moment to smirk down at her, and to locate the ties on the back of her neck.

 

As she felt his fingers undo the ribbon she finally seemed to come to her senses, her eyes suddenly becoming focused.

 

“Wait Severus. Not yet…” She tried to pull his fingers away but he barely noticed, instead deftly evading her and moving onto the first of the row of buttons below, even as he reached down to kiss her again. She lost herself for a moment again, before suddenly remembering her objections and trying to push him off.

 

He finally realised his advances weren’t being returned, and his blood turned cold for a moment. Had she changed her mind? It would be all too easy for her to leave him if the marriage hadn’t been consummated. She had a couple of months left to find another to marry. His chest clenched at the thought. _She’s mine…_

 

“What’s the matter?” He kept his hands on her shoulders, stroking the skin there gently. “Do you not want to…?”

 

“That’s not it.”

She blushed again, looking away, and he couldn’t help but follow the red downwards towards her chest, now that the neckline was sagging and low.

 

“It’s just, I… I bought something to put on… you know, something nice. And there should be a bottle chilling somewhere…”

 

He laughed in relief as her words reassured his that flight was the last thing on her mind. He pulled her flush against him once more and started kissing down her now exposed neck.  “I’m more concerned with getting this off,” he growled once he felt he relax a bit into his arms again.  

 

“But… I wanted…”

 

Hermione trailed off as his hand came up to gently cup a breast for the first time, his thumb brushing expertly across a sensitive nipple. She shuddered delightfully in his arms, sagging slightly with the onslaught of sensations and he took the opportunity to back her slowly towards the bed.

 

“What I want is to get you out of this dress,” he murmured into the sweet spot behind her ear. Gods she tasted so good, he was finding it hard not to pin he straight to the bed and devour her. “Any other clothing right now would be…superfluous.” He wasn’t interested in her setting up some romantic scene. He just wanted her now. He’d waited so long, and now… now she was his.

 

“Sever… oh!”

 

 She almost whimpered as the back of her legs hit the bed, and he reached around with one hand to continue undoing her buttons, using the other to continue teasing her breast with light touches. He knew she was on the verge of forgetting her silly ideas when she began to push back unconsciously into his hand, begging for a firmer touch. Finally, the last fastening in the small of her back was open, and he ran his hand back up the silk-smooth skin that was now exposed to her waist, delighted to not have a bra to contend with. He kissed her more fervently as he used both hands to start slipping the straps of the dress down her arms.

 

“I’ve wanted you for so long. I need you now… wife,” Severus whispered against her lips as he carried her down gently to the bed.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: See Chapter One

Thanks for all the lovely reviews everyone!

I am now on tumblr if anyone wants to ask questions!

* * *

 

 

Severus held tight to the counter to stop himself from falling, and took another swig from the bottle, dimly registering that he could barely feel it go down now, despite it being strong enough to have created a pleasant burn even for someone well used to drinking the stuff. It was a waste of an excellent bottle, he realised, noting the label for the first time. It was a bottle of Blishen’s, aged 51 years like only the very rarest, most expensive bottles were. It had been a gift from Lucius on his wedding day, along with a number of more inexpesive bottles.

 

“Don’t waste the good one on getting pissed,” his friend had said. “That’s what the cheap ones are for.”

 

If only he’d applied the same advice to his marriage.

 

 

2 years, 5 months earlier

 

He felt her finally give in to his advances as she relaxed beneath him, snaking her arms around his waist hesitantly, and he felt a surge of triumph. She was his. He had to hold himself back from ripping the robe off her body and plunging straight into her, but it was her first time, and if he wanted to keep her coming back for more, or willingly at least, then he needed to make it special for her. The momentary thought that he wanted his bride to enjoy her first time for her own sake, rather than his own, was strange enough that he dismissed it as mere fancy, no doubt brought on by months of abstinence.

 

Wanting to take his time and savour the experience – he’d waited this long, there was no point rushing now; he gently eased the neck of her robe downwards, exposing the swell of her breasts. He kissed a slow trail down her neck, relishing the sweetness of her skin and making her whine as she dug her fingers into his shoulders. He pushed the material down further with his cheek, finally uncovering a tightly furled nipple which he gently sucked into his mouth. At this Hermione moaned beneath him, arching her back and trying to pull him tighter against her. She wasn’t acting how he had expected her to, all virginal and shy. Merlin, if she was going to always be this enthusiastic a lover, then it would be no hardship for him to relinquish his womanising ways

 

He continued laving the tight bud with his tongue, even as he took a peek up at her face. His bride was truly a picture, her head thrown back and her expression unguarded in her pleasure. She was so different from the contrived and careful seductions of his former lovers, so artless in the way she encouraged him with every part of her body wrapped around him. He decided there and then he was going to make her come before he took her, wanting to hear her cry out his name as he tasted her sweet, untouched pussy.

 

Severus lifted his mouth from her breast to concentrate on working her robe down her stomach and down over her hips. Hermione took the opportunity to start pushing his own black wedding robes off his shoulders. Like her, he had nothing on underneath, so it wasn’t long before they’d manged to rid each other of the material, and finally had full access to each other’s naked bodies completely for the first time.

 

He paused for a moment, looking down at the witch beneath him on the bed. Her wild hair was spread across the sheets like a golden halo, her eyes heavy with desire. Her slender limbs shone palely in the candlelight, although more than a hint of blush covered her English Rose complexion. Even the faded scar that ran from just below her collar bone and down between her breasts couldn’t detract from her beauty, and the way she unashamedly displayed her body to him, despite her inexperience, was pleasing. No false modesty or self-consciousness. He could have understood a little shyness, but he could see nothing but lust on her face.

 

For a second his own confidence wavered. How could someone like her want a battered old man like him? He glanced down at his own body, the slightly loose paunch left over from the way his weight had yoyo’d depending on much stress he’d been under at the time, his pasty skin covered with silver scars. What the hell did she see in him? He wasn’t handsome, or particularly pleasant to be around. But then she lifted her arms around his neck, and pulled him down to meet her lips again, and for a while all thought was lost.

 

He was content just to kiss her for a minute or so, although his hands roamed freely over any part of her body that he could reach, squeezing and stroking, even as hers did the same to him. Eventually her quiet whimpers and writhing hips told him of her frustration at the lack of progression. With a silent grin against her lips he began to kiss his way down her body, pausing once more at her pert tits to flick his tongue across first one nipple, then the other.

 

Moving down, he discovered that the undersides of her breasts were especially sensitive, and he filled the information away for a later date before continuing. Enjoying the way her flat stomach twitched as he brushed his lips across her warm skin, he lingered for a few moments, although his fingers slowly continued their meandering path towards the juncture of her legs. He’d never liked much foreplay, only making the effort when it was necessary for his purposes. He’d certainly never enjoyed doing to other women what he was about to do to his new wife, but her reactions to everything he did were so different to the practiced moans of his previous partners, that he was desperate to see what new sounds her could draw from her.

 

His fingers finally reached their goal, brushing lightly across the hair covering her mons. Severus paused for a moment to make sure she was comfortable before carefully brushing the tips across her clit. Hermione gasped quietly and grabbed the bed sheet in one hand, even as the other gripped his shoulder tightly. She was surprisingly wet already, boosting Severus’s confidence over how well his seduction was affecting her. Gently he began to rub the small nub in circles, occasionally dipping deeper between her legs to gather moisture, but not yet pressing into her entrance. Her hips began to undulate in time with his fingers, but she was still silent. Looking up, he could see that she had her eyes closed and was biting down on her lower lip, muting her cries. The hand that was between her legs came up for a moment to tap on her mouth.

 

“Don’t do that,” he growled quietly. “I want to hear you.”

 

Eyes that burned with desire fixed on him for a moment, and her tongue darted out to taste where his fingers had left the slightest smear of her own juices on her lips. _Sweet Nimue!_ He hissed as his cock twitched eagerly against the mattress. She was going to be the death of him.

 

More impatient now than before to taste her, he returned his fingers to her pussy, even as he pushed himself up onto his opposite elbow so he could move. He felt more than saw Hermione stiffen slightly as he scrambled a bit further down the bed, settling between her legs. She automatically tried to close her legs, but Severus was in the way. She’d never gone anyway near this far with anyone before, he knew, so it wasn’t surprising that she was feeling anxious. Hoping to calm her nerves, or even better, make her forget them completely, he began to kiss and nuzzle his cheek up the inside of her inner thigh as he slowly pressed her legs apart again.

 

“Severus?” she asked, a hint of concern in her voice.

 

“Just relax, pet. This will feel good, I promise.”

 

The effort it took for her to lie back was clear on her face, and Severus could tell she was still uncomfortable, although he was sure she wouldn’t be once he got going.

 

He looked down at her pussy, arrayed before him, her clit gleaming wetly and the tight slit below. Tracing the latter with his fingertips he finally lowered his mouth to her, swiping his tongue lightly across the bud a few times before drawing it between his lips and sucking gently. Hermione’s hips jerked as she cried out wordlessly, and he wrapped his free arm around her thigh to steady her. Using his fingers to spread her slightly, he ran his tongue down her opening, before delving inside. Enjoying the way expletives fell from her mouth, he doubled his efforts, swirling his tongue between her lips and occasionally slipping back up to lave at her clit. At the same time he used his fingers to gently push into to her, trying to stretch her hymen a little to make his eventual entrance less painful.

 

It didn’t take long before her cries told him she was getting close, and the rhythmic undulations of her hips threatened his ability to breathe. He held her down, redoubling his efforts until he felt her muscles spasm around his fingers as her back arched.

 

“Se… Severus… Oh shit!” she cried, her fists gripping the sheets tightly.

 

He continued to gently stroke her with his tongue until her shaking stopped. Looking up at her, he had to supress a grin at her slightly dazed look and dishevelled state. Now he was no longer concentrating on making her climax, he was very aware of his own need, throbbing almost painfully against the bed. He’d done all he could to guarantee her enjoyment this evening, and to convince her to come back for more, and now it was his turn. Wiping his thumb across his mouth to remove the remains of her orgasm he began to move back up her body, kissing her flushed skin until he reached her mouth.

 

“Hermione…” His voice was husky with desire as he pressed his lips to hers. “Are you ready?”

 

She wrapped her arms around him and bent her knees slightly so her hips cradled his.

 

“I’m ready. Make me yours,” she whispered back, pulling him down for a searing kiss.

 

When the kiss ended he reached down between them and placed his cock at her entrance. She stilled beneath him in anticipation, fingers gripping his shoulders, face buried in his neck. He began to push into her, feeling the tension in her body mount as her discomfort grew. Realising that it was perhaps best to get it done quickly, Severus pulled his hips back a little, and then thrust hard. All the earlier foreplay had only served to lubricate her, and that single push was enough for him to bury himself completely within her.

 

_Mine… At last!_

Hermione let out a strangled sob beneath him and dug her nails in. Severus could feel the dampness where her cheek pressed into his neck and he knew that despite his best efforts to make it as painless as possible it had not been enough. But he had waited for this moment too long, held back as long as he could. A girl’s first time was never pleasant; he would make it up to her later that evening though. He gave her a few moments to accustom herself to the feel of him before he began to gently move against her again.

 

She felt so good, the warmth of her skin against his, the tightness of her muscle around his cock were all the better for having denied himself such pleasures. Unable to help himself, he began to snap his hips faster, alternately pressing his lips against her neck and nibbling on the sweet spot when it met her shoulder. He could tell the moment her pain was overwhelmed by pleasure, and knowing he would not be able to hold himself back for long, he knelt back so he could play with her clit long enough for her to come again as he continued to thrust shallowly into her.

 

It didn’t take long from her to scream out her completion once more. The sight of her, fevered skin, head thrown back as his cock, streaked with her virgin blood and cum, pierced her pretty cunt again and again, was too much for him. Immediately he dropped back down on top of her, and began to plunge into her furiously. Mere moments later he was growling out his own release into her neck, his hips jerking wildly until he felt spent.

 

Severus pushed away the sudden desire to just lie there and hold her close against his body. No doubt it had something to do with the endorphins that were flowing through his body after the first sex he’d had in far too long. This had always been the point at which he made a fairly hasty retreat, and although he didn’t want to upset her, he didn’t want her to get the impression he was the affectionate type. He’d always known he would never get close to another person like that, ever since Lily had run of with Potter.

 

He rolled off her, moving to the far side of the bed in the hope she wouldn’t expect him to… cuddle. She lay next to him in silence for a minute, her chest still heaving with the exertion. He watched her breasts rising and falling with each breath out of the corner of his eye. Gods they were magnificent, just the perfect size. He turned his head slightly and ran a critical eye down her body. It was every bit as perfect as he’d imagined, and had felt every bit as good to have beneath him as he’d dreamt of for the past few years. By Merlin, he must be the luckiest bastard in the entire wizarding world, to have a woman like her choose a grumpy and unattractive man like himself. What she saw in him he still didn’t understand, but it was far too late to change her mind now.

 

“See something you like?”

 

In his lazy perusal of her body he’d not noticed her turn her head to face him. He looked up from where he’d been admiring the rather shapely legs that had been wrapped round his hips not long before, to see her smiling nervously at him. To his surprise he could feel his desire for her rising again, although it would be a while before he could do anything about it, at least not without the phial of stamina potion hiding in the bedside table.

 

Hermione was still looking expectantly at him, waiting for him to do or say something. He was sure, without pressing into her mind, that she wanted some post-coital affection. He needed to distract her, make her think she’d got what she needed.

 

“I see a lot that I like,” he purred, watching with delight the resulting blush that spread down over her chest. He couldn’t help but reach across to gently run his fingers over a breast, making her twitch, down across her flat stomach to a hip.

 

He could tell before she moved what she was about to do, and before she could reach over to embrace him, he rolled over, reaching out to open the drawer of the bedside table. Ignoring the stamina potion, he grabbed the phial next to it, before turning back to face her.

 

“Take it.” He proffered it to her. She hesitated for a moment until he continued. “It’s a healing potion. It’ll help… you know…”

 

“Oh… thank you,” she smiled at his thoughtfulness and grabbed the phial, sitting up so she could down it in one go.

 

Severus couldn’t take his eyes off the way her breasts moved as she lifted the potion to her lips, depositing the phial on the set of drawers her side of the bed when she’d finished. The quiet clearing of her throat made him look up and realise he’d been caught. Not that there was anything wrong with ogling your own wife’s tit’s of course. The inviting smile on her lips made him realise she didn’t see any problem with it either.

 

She shifted toward him, reaching out to run her hand down his thigh. Her touch was electric, and despite having cum mere minutes before, he found his desire to take her once more rising.

 

“Can I help you, wife?” he growled, a slight smirk gracing his face as she continued to trail her fingers up and down his flanks as her eyes followed their progress.

 

She shrugged coquettishly, although she’d been unable to keep a momentary grin off her face at the way he’d addressed her. “You know me, _husband_ , they say that practise makes perfect, and I don’t like settling for anything less than outstanding marks.” She blushed at her own forwardness, but managed to lift her eyes to his.

 

Severus hissed between his teeth as her warm fingers wrapped themselves around his cock. It looked like he wasn’t going to need that stamina potion after all.

* * *

 

It was even better the second time, his newly-deflowered wife having taken much more of an active role now that she was no longer in pain. This time, as he rolled offthe top of her, she followed him, her arm sneaking around his waist as she tucked herself into his side. He paused, uncomfortable and unsure how to respond. Her warm body felt amazing against his, all softness and curves. He was acutely aware of her breasts pressed into his side, the silkiness of the leg that had slipped over his, and the gentle puff of her breath on his chest. If this was the type of intimacy he could expect from his wife, then perhaps it wouldn’t be so hard to bear.   _No… this is not a good idea. It’ll start this way, but she’ll want more and more from you every time. Everyone always does._  

 

“Mmnn, that was amazing, Severus,” the witch in his arms murmured contentedly. “I love you.”

 

He couldn’t help but tense at her words, but she didn’t seem to notice. He’d managed to put off this moment, clearly taking care to hint at feelings he didn’t possess while never actually saying them. He’d always known, however, that this moment was unavoidable at some point.

 

Hermione laughed softly to herself. “I can’t believe I’ve not told you that before.” She looked up at him. “I love you, Severus.”

 

Her smile, so confident and sure, made his stomach clench. There was silence for a few moments, as he tried to formulate a response with her looking up at him expectantly.

 

“I…” He paused, unable to complete the sentiment. Perhaps if this moment had come before their marriage, he would have forced himself to say it, in order that he didn’t lose her. But now he already had her, and he just couldn’t bring himself to say it when he didn’t mean it.

 

“I… I need to use the bathroom before we sleep.” He pulled abruptly out of her arms, rolling over so he could sit up and swing his legs down. He tried to ignore the look on hurt and disappointment he’d caught on her face before he’d turned away. His stomach seemed to cramping again. Clearly he’d eaten far too much rich food at their celebratory dinner earlier.

 

As he took his first step away from the bed, she spoke quietly from behind him. “I don’t mind, you know. I understand.”

 

Severus was silent for a moment while he reached for the dressing gown that lay across the chair. As he finished tying the belt around his waist he finally replied, his voice toneless. “What do you understand?” Had she seen though his plan all along? If so, why had she married him? His heart seemed to pound in his chest as he heard her scrambling across to his side of the bed and come to stand behind him. He almost jumped when her small hands came to rest at his waist.

 

“You don’t feel comfortable saying it. I don’t mind.”

 

“Saying what?” he growled, turning suddenly to face her. He wasn’t sure now that they were thinking of the same thing.

 

She swallowed roughly. “That you… love me. It’s ok, you don’t need to say it until you’re ready. I don’t need to hear it said to know that you do.” It almost sounded like a question.

 

Severus couldn’t help the snort of laughter that seemed to come from nowhere. “Is that what you think?” he asked, unable to help himself, despite the fact that this conversation was becoming dangerous.

 

“Yes, I do,” she replied, though he could see the hint of uncertainty in her eyes at his response. “Harry told me… about your childhood, your parents. It must have been horrible, Severus. I understand it must be difficult to express your feelings.” She reached up to touch a cheek, but he batted it away.

 

“Oh yes, and what else did Potter tell you?” he snarled. How dare the boy speak of what he’d learned to anyone, even her? Severus had managed to get through the inquiry after the battle without revealing too much of the memories he’d shown Potter. Knowing the antidote in his blood was already neutralising the venom from that damned snake, he’d only given Potter enough to realise his true allegiance, along with the information Albus had asked him to pass on. Thank Merlin he’d only shown the idiot boy the memories pertaining to his friendship with Lily. Nimue knows what trouble would have been caused if he’d known enough of Severus’ true feelings to discuss them with Hermione.

 

From the look on his wife’s face she knew she’d said something wrong, but wasn’t quite sure as to what. He watched as she struggled to find the right words that would diffuse the situation. Unfortunately she only managed to make things worse.

 

“He told me about your friendship with his mother… with Lily, how you protected him despite the fact she stopped speaking to you. I think it was very cruel of her not to forgive what you said…”

 

“You know nothing about it!” He grabbed her by the upper arms. How dare she speak of Lily to him, and in such a manner! “She meant far more to me than just a friend. I loved her then, and I always will.”

 

She was shocked, but still clearly didn’t fully comprehend what he was saying. “But what about me? I thought you…”

 

“You clearly thought wrong!” He could see the train wreck approaching, but was powerless to stop what he had already started. “You’ll never mean to me what she did. I’ve always loved her… and I’ll never love you!”

 

The moment the words dropped from his lips he wished he could take them back. His new wife’s face had frozen in disbelief, although to his relief there didn’t seem to be any tears coming. He hated crying women. It wasn’t so much her feelings that he was worried about, although there was a small voice telling him he’d been an unmitigated bastard towards her, but he was more concerned the fact that he had likely scuppered any chance of getting in between her legs more than the required Ministry minimum. Why couldn’t he have kept his mouth shut, or even better, lied to the girl. He’d spent years lying to one of the most feared men alive, why couldn’t he have managed to do the same to her.

 

He watched her uncertainly for a moment, wondering what to do next. The silence between them seemed to stretch on for hours, before she finally spoke.

 

“Thank you for clearing up that misunderstanding.”

 

He could only admire her strength. Her voice had barely wavered, and her expression was hard and unyielding, despite the fact she’d just been dealt a devastating blow. For once he felt no urge to push into her head and find out what she was thinking.

 

“If you’ll excuse me, it’s late, and I’d like to get some sleep,” she said tightly.

 

Severus could only watch as she turned and moved back towards the bed. He then fled to the bathroom, where he studiously avoided looking at himself in the mirror as he cleaned off all the evidence of what they’d been doing for the past few hours. Was there anything he could do to reverse the damage he’d done to his new marriage? He was pretty sure there was nothing that could be done.

 

When he slunk back into the bedroom half an hour later Hermione had doused all candles but the one on his side of the bed, and seemed to be asleep under the covers. He climbed in beside her, and lay for a while, just looking at the figure that slept with her back to him. How could he have been so foolish, mucking it up so soon? After so many years of being treated like dirt, he’d finally got what he’d seen as his just reward: the brilliant and girl he’d been lusting after for years, and to top it off, she actually cared for him. He could almost see the future that could have been; despite his love for Lily, he would have made the most of what he had, but as with everything else, he’d ruined it.

 

He almost reached out to her, to ask her forgiveness… to lie and say he did care for her, but in the end he was too much of a coward to be able to bear her disdain. His hand dropped down to the cold sheets between them, and after a moment he rolled over to extinguish the last candle with a sigh of regret. Sleep was a long time coming that night, but eventually his weariness overcame his overactive mind, and he slept.

 

When he woke, her side of the bed was cold and empty.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

I'm so sorry about how long it's taken me to get this up! I've just started a PGCE (teaching cert) and it's insanely intensive. I've just not had much time to do anything! I also need to apologise in advance for any spelling mistakes in this chapter. My keyboard is starting to stick, the 'f' in particular, and I've probably not managed to catch all of them. There may be some o's that are really 'of's and or's that are 'for's, amongst others. Hope you enjoy the new chapter!

* * *

Severus took another large sip from the bottle, noting with alarm that there now seemed to be more air than liquid inside. He was definitely going to need more if he was going to be able to drown out the memory of one of the most utterly stupid things he'd ever done.

The thought of her, wanton and needy for his touch as she had been that first night made his heart clench, just as it had done the morning he'd woken up cold and alone. Of course, back then he'd attributed it to indigestion, but now, despite the drink fuelled haze, he could view his own past feelings with a clearer eye than he'd had at the time. Even then, he'd loved her. He was unfamiliar enough with the emotion to not be able to pinpoint the exact moment his infatuation with he had become more.

He had wanted her or so long, perhaps he had confused love with obsession. After all, he had managed it the other way round for so many years. He _had_ been obsessed with Lily, he could understand that now that he had something to compare his feelings to. But as strongly as he'd tried to hold onto his want for her, it had not been long before thoughts of his new wife had pushed the memories aside.

* * *

2 years, 5 months earlier

It didn't take long for him to realise why he'd woken up alone. Upon exiting his bedroom he'd noticed the door to the smaller bedroom at the back, his room as a child, was slightly ajar. Silently he'd approached and peeked in. What he'd seen had caused him to push the door open wide and step in. For years the room had been bare, ever since he'd cleared out the sad remnants of his childhood and moved into what had been his parents' bedroom. The memories weren't as strong there; he'd rarely been allowed to enter. Even as a young child he'd known not to go in, even if he was sick in the night, for fear of his father's anger. His own room, however, had seen so much of his own neglect, beatings from his father, years of cowering in his bed like a coward as he listened to him rage and batter his mother downstairs. He'd stripped both his old room and his parents' the summer he'd been required to stay at home by the Dark Lord, but while he'd replaced the furnishing's in the latter, he'd just vanished everything from his own room, leaving nothing but a few battered pieces of furniture, plain whitewashed walls and dusty floorboards.

But now, the room was crammed with colour, the barren remains of his childhood hidden behind bright rugs, piles of books and various knick-knacks. The shabby old bed had been repaired and was made up with deep purple covers. His old wardrobe and bedside cabinet had been similarly treated, and the former now held a lamp which he recognised from Hermione's old flat. In fact, he realised as he looked around, he remembered seeing most items before; the oak bookcase that was already overloaded, the rug from in front of her fire, a small old-fashioned writing desk now tucked under the small, pokey window.

How she'd got it all in the tiny room he wasn't sure, and he wondered what she'd done with the rest of the stuff from her flat until he remembered just how adept she was with a shrinking charm. She'd sold the flat not long before the wedding and had moved into Grimmauld Place temporarily. Clearly she had shrunk her belongings into the smallish trunk that Potter had brought over the night before the wedding.

Looking around at the space she'd carved out for herself, Severus could feel his fury mounting, not only at the fact that she was clearly planning on sleeping in the room and not with him, but that she'd changed it without permission. It was _his_ house. He ignored the voice that reminded him that actually, no it was hers now as well. He turned quickly and swept out of the room to seek and confront her.

He found her in the kitchen, her back to him, hands still wrapped round a now-empty mug. He almost turned and snuck back out, unsure of what to say to her. But then, with a sigh, she stood suddenly, picking up her mug as she pushed her chair back. Without thinking, her name fell quietly from his lips:

"Hermione…"

He'd come in so quietly that she was startled, almost dropping her mug. She turned towards him, and his angry words died in his throat. She'd clearly been crying, the glamours he could just make out on her face not quite enough to mask the red around her eyes. But no amount of magic could erase the sadness evident in them, which was perhaps why she quickly shied away from meeting his gaze and forced a more cheerful expression onto her face.

"I made breakfast, although I wasn't sure when you'd be up so it's been sitting under a warming charm." She started to busy herself with tidying away her own plate, and grabbed his from the kitchen surface, setting it on the table. "Would you like some coffee?"

Severus watched her whirl around the kitchen from his position by the door. His new wife was clearly nervous of him. Perhaps she was worried about his reaction to her redecoration. And well she should be… It wasn't until she was laying out his breakfast on the table that he finally moved, striding across to her and catching hold of her wrist as she finished putting his coffee down.

"Hermione…" he repeated gruffly, ready to confront her about the bedroom.

She stilled, face down, offering no resistance to his tight grip. Silently he waited, and after a few moments she slowly lifted her head. He wasn't sure whether it was the spiritless look in her eyes or the way her hand trembled beneath his fingers that did it, but suddenly his anger dissipated as if it had never been. Finding it suddenly difficult to look down into her warm honey eyes, his gaze fell on the breakfast she'd made for him. It was his favourite; eggs benedict. He frowned slightly. He was sure he'd never told her that. Perhaps it was just coincidence that she'd chosen to make it for him. For all he knew it could be her favourite too.

"Severus…" came the quiet whisper from beside him, and with a start he realised that he had been squeezing her wrist harder than necessary. He let go of her, and immediately she tucked her hand behind her back, her face a pale mask. Refusing to apologise – after all, it was her fault that he was irritated with her that morning, he sat down at the table and pulled the plate towards him.

It was perfect, the eggs were the consistency that he preferred – not as runny as was usual with this dish, and the hollandaise tasted just the way he'd convinced the house elves at Hogwarts to prepare his a few years previously. It was hard to enjoy, however, when he could feel something that felt horribly like shame curdling in his stomach. He could only conclude that she'd gone to the effort of finding out exactly what he liked as a special surprise. Why she'd still bothered to make it for him after what he'd said to her the previous night he wasn't sure.

He only turned round to speak to her once he'd emptied his plate and finished the last sip of his coffee, having taken his time to decide what to say to her, but the kitchen was empty. He'd not even heard her leave.

Instead of going after her, he collected the book he was currently working his way through and retreated to his lab in the basement, where he spent the rest of the day brewing and reading – not hiding, of course. He didn't emerge until past 8, when his stomach was beginning to hurt from lack of food since breakfast. Hoping Hermione had eaten already he slipped quietly into the kitchen, intending to find something in the cupboard and disappear back downstairs until late. No such luck. How long she'd actually been waiting for him he wasn't sure, but it had been long enough for her to cast a warming charm over the large pot in the centre of the table. Again he thought of retreating, but she'd clearly heard him already, for she turned suddenly, and upon seeing him, beckoned for him to join her. Smoothing out his frown before it had even begun to form on his face, he slunk around the table and sat down. What was she up to? Why was she treating him so nicely, when his own experience with upset women told him they liked to get noisy and cry a lot?

Conversation over their meal was almost non-existent, with Hermione occasionally breaking the silence to ask him questions about the house, where certain objects were, and the way he preferred things to be done around the house. His answers were short and to the point, and often consisted of little more than him telling her what she was not allowed to touch or use. The longer they sat, the easier it was to tell just how hard she was trying to keep her emotions under control. In the lull between questions he would catch the way her carefully constructed expression would waver, and the sadness would creep back into her eyes. The topic of their sleeping arrangements seemed to be the elephant in the room, despite Severus wanting to confront her over it. But there was something about the atmosphere that he didn't want to ruin. It was a glimpse at the peaceful home life he'd never had growing up, especially if he ignored the underlying tension between the two of them, and he wanted to pretend a little longer that all was well.

It was still torture, sitting across from her and knowing that despite their newly married status, that he most assuredly would not be enjoying the delights that he would have he'd been able to keep his damn mouth shut. Even in her misery, with dulled eyes and pale complexion, he wanted her, the obsessive desire that had built up over the past years barely appeased by the one night of passion they had shared. By the time they'd both finished their meals, he was more than ready to make his escape from the temptation that she presented, and he left her clearing up the dinner while he went to ostensibly check on a potion that was simmering in his lab, but in reality he needed a break from her company to give his libido a chance to cool before he did something stupid.

When he emerged an hour later, he found her in the sitting room, curled up in an armchair with a book. Her only response to his entrance was an empty smile directed at him, before she returned her concentration to the book in her lap. He pulled a book from off the shelves and sat in his own chair to read, occasionally glancing up at his wife. A couple of hours passed in silence, the only sounds being the rustle of pages as they were turned. As the clock on the mantelpiece struck 11, Severus finally noticed how late it had become. He needed to be up early to tend to his potion, and after his restless night's sleep, he needed to get to bed.

Looking up at Hermione, Severus noted the stubborn set to her jaw, and he careful study of the page in front of her, although her eyes were red and bleary. Clearly she'd been waiting for him to go to bed first. With a sigh he snapped his book shut, and stiffly got to his feet. Feeling horribly awkward, he replaced the book on the shelf and headed towards the stairs, stopping for a moment at the door and turning his head to look at her. She never looked up. At the creak of the first step, however, a quiet voice called to him.

"Good night, Severus."

He froze, opening his mouth to reply, but then thought better of it. _Good? There's nothing good about it_. He started to climb the stairs, hating the way each one creaked loudly. A quick visit to the bathroom later and he was shutting his bedroom door behind him. His dark furnishings reflected his mood. He could have been fucking her again this evening, maybe even had her several times already that day. He was surely the biggest idiot he knew, and that was saying something, considering the number of utterly incompetent students he'd had in his classroom over the years.

He heard her soft footsteps cross the landing a short while later, after he'd already crawled into bed, pausing slightly in front of his room before continuing down to the one she'd taken for hers. He strained his ears to hear any further sound but there was nothing, and he could only assume she'd put up a silencing charm, as he knew from experience that even little sounds carried far in the old house. It took him a long time to drift off that night, and when he finally did, he was plagued with restless sleep and fitful dreams.

As the first week of their marriage passed by, he began to wonder whether he was going to have to drag her to his bed to carry out the Ministry decree before the end of the second. The Ministry had insisted on the implementation of a charm that would alert them to any couple not meeting the requirements as part of the wedding ceremonies that fell under the new law. By the time Wednesday, a full week after their wedding, rolled around again, they still hadn't spoken about what must happen that evening. Severus had made sure to take some food with him down into his lab before Hermione arrived home from work, so he didn't need to go up at dinner time. He had no desire to sit opposite his wife in awkward silence as they both avoided the one thing that needed to be discussed. He was frustrated enough with the situation, having to spend so much time in her company, lusting after her, but without being able to have her. This night hadn't been able to come fast enough.

By 10.30 he couldn't pretend to himself that he could do anymore that evening, and so, steeling himself for the long awaited confrontation, he trudged up the stairs. He was surprised to find the kitchen and sitting room both dark and silent. Despite the cool April weather, it seemed as if Hermione had not bothered to light the fire this evening at all and it was markedly cooler than in the warmth of his lab. It seemed as if she'd already gone to bed. _Shit…_ He began to climb the stairs with a heavy heart. Despite the circumstances, he'd been looking forward to slaking his lust for her, he would never be capable of forcing himself on her if she refused to abide by the law and accept him into her bed, even if it meant the two of them taking a trip to Azkaban. Hopefully she wouldn't refuse him if he knocked at her door, although the thought of fucking his wife is his small childhood bed sent him cold.

To his surprise, when he reached the top of the stairs, he found his own bedroom door slightly open, a weak beam of light crossing the dingy landing carpet in front of him. Hating the way his heart leapt – she'd come to him of her own accord once more – he peered through the gap. She was already in his bed, reclining against the pillows with a book in her lap. The nerve of her… to sit there as if she'd not eschewed his bed for the past week. Suddenly irritated, he flung the door open with a bang, hoping to make her jump, but she only looked up at him for a moment with a tight smile, before returning her eyes to her book.

As he stalked closer he could see that she wasn't as relaxed as she seemed. Her face was pale and he could see how tightly her fingers were clutching the book.

"What are you doing?" he snapped as he came to stand by the bed.

She looked back up with a feigned look of innocence. "I assumed we'd be more comfortable in here, rather than squeezing into my single bed. Unless…" She faltered when his scowl didn't disappear. "…you don't wish to… only it needs to be tonight, or the Min…"

Not wanting the reminder that the Ministry law was the only reason his wife was willing to grace his bed with her presence, his reply was harsher than he'd meant. "Don't be foolish, girl, of course tonight is acceptable. May I know when you plan to fulfil the second of our weekly copulatory requirements?"

"Oh… l I thought perhaps tomorrow evening…"

"That will suffice," he replied sharply, turning away to start unbuttoning his jacket, trying to hide the desire he knew would be shining in his eyes at the thought of fucking her. He was acutely aware of the silence behind him as he quickly undressed and pulled his dressing gown on. Just the thought of what was to happen was making hi hard, so he made sure to keep his back to her. He left the room with a muttered, "I won't be long," and disappeared off to the bathroom where he took a perfunctory shower to rid himself of the potion fumes that clung to him after a day's brewing. By the time he'd returned to the bedroom Hermione had put the book aside and dimmed the light.

He crossed the room quickly, pretending not to see the nervousness on her face, and quickly divested himself of his dressing gown and slipped under the covers. As silence reigned for a few moments Severus could only think back and compare this to the last time he' had her in his bed, full of heat and passion or him, not the cold fish that lay next to him now. For the umpteenth time, he cursed himself for not being able to lie to her about his feelings. He'd been a spy for as long as she'd been alive, for Merlin's sake, lying had been second nature to him for almost as long as he'd lived. So why had he been unable to do so to her this time?

Hermione shifted slightly beside him, bringing him back to the moment, and he rolled to face her. Ignoring the apprehensive look on her face, Severus began to tug the covers off her, realising with delight that at some point she'd rid herself of the nightdress she'd been wearing earlier. Immediately he could feel himself growing hard once more. He may not love her, but Merlin he desired her. He couldn't help but lower his mouth to one puckered bud, even as his fingers trailed across her stomach to gently cup her other breast. She was strangely tense beneath him, and at first her unnatural stillness was easy to ignore as his own need mounted, but he quickly found his pride demanded some sort of response from her. He began to lave and suck her nipple with fervour, gently using his hand to caress her and flick at her bud with his thumb.

The strangled gasp that tore from her throat made him smirk against her warm skin. He let his hand trail down her soft stomach and down between her legs, which he gently pushed apart for better access. Brushing his fingers across her opening he was pleased to find that despite her cold demeanour, she was wet already. However, when he lifted his face to look at hers he was dismayed to find her eyes full of unshed fears. Bugger… He didn't want to do this if she was really that unwilling. He pulled back a little.

"Hermione…" he started.

She clutched at him, tugging him back towards her. "Don't stop, Severus."

"I don't…"

"Please… Severus," she whispered. "Don't make me beg."

When he still held back, uncertain, she sighed gently, closing her eyes.

"Severus, I… I need you to… fuck me… now," she bit out quietly, pulling his head back down to her breast.

Pushing away his unease, Severus did as she asked. Deciding that it was pointless continuing to tease her with more foreplay he quickly shifted to lie between her legs, holding himself with one hand at her entrance, and looked down at her. Her eyes were still closed, her full lips parted slightly, and at the same moment he pushed into her tight heat he impulsively leant down to kiss them. Unknowingly, at the same moment she turned her head to the side, away from him, and awkwardly he buried his face in her neck instead as he began to rock his hips back and forth.

Her hands came up to grip his shoulders, holding him tight against her as he hips tilted to accommodate him fully. Severus groaned in pleasure as he began to thrust harder. She was still so tight, and the soft skin of her breasts felt like silk against his chest. She really was exquisite, her form slender and lithe, but not scrawny, with just enough curves to be womanly instead of childlike. Not like Lily of course, certainly not as stunningly beautiful, with her red hair and piercing green eyes, and her height gave her a bearing that Hermione would never have. _Oh gods, Lily, how could I have been so stupid to push you away?_

And now he'd also fucked up the best thing to happen to him since he destroyed his and Lily's friendship. It seemed like he was doomed to repeat his mistakes over and over. Well, he may have wrecked the chance to have Hermione his bed every night, but at least he would be guaranteed something at least. It was still a thousand times better than his alternatives. Besides, he could pretend, like he had with all the previous women, that it was Lily lying beneath him. _Not that you have done so far with Hermione…_ No, he'd desired the girl long enough that even thoughts of Lily had been pushed aside for some time. Such a state couldn't allowed to continue though. Lily was, and always would be, his one true love.

Hermione had begun to undulate her pelvis in time with his, causing him to penetrate deeper, although she was still silent. Feeling his climax approaching, he began to snap his hips faster in an effort to push himself over the edge, neglecting his partner's pleasure in his own blissful haze. It wasn't long before he could feel his balls tighten, and with a shout of completion, he emptied his impotent seed deep inside her, before slumping down on her in exhaustion.

After a few moments catching his breath, he was in enough possession of his wits to lift his head, and immediately realised she'd put the light out. _When did that happen? Wordless and wandless though… impressive!_ Not that he would ever tell her. Feeling his softening cock slip out of her slick pussy, he extricated himself from between her legs and collapsed to one side, turning onto his back. Considering how he had avoided cuddling with her before, he still felt a strange sense of loss when she did not roll with him and wrap her arms around him this time. _Don't be such a fucking soft touch, you idiot!_

In the darkness he could hear her shifting, and the movement of the mattress told him that she'd turned onto her side, facing away from him once more. He hated the way that single motion made him feel rejected. _You rejected her, you idiot, when you told her you loved Lily_. Perhaps he could draw her back somehow, if only to appease his own need. He'd been uncaring of her pleasure in the heat of the moment, after all, it wasn't as if he needed to keep her happy so she would return to his bed, but now that he was sated he suddenly felt a peculiar duty to make sure she felt the same.

"Did you… " He paused, unsure how to word it.

"Did I what, Severus?" was her quiet response after a few seconds.

"Did you enjoy yourself… did you cum, I mean." The moment the words were out of his mouth he cringed at the crassness of the question.

There was silence for a moment before he hear the faintest of sighs. "No… It doesn't matter."

He grimaced into the darkness, her words wounding his masculine pride. If that's how she wanted to be, then he wouldn't bother making the effort again. See how long she could go without the frustration being too much. It wasn't like it would make a difference to their relationship either way. He was more than willing to take what he wanted and leave her hanging if she wanted to be so blasé about it, although he wasn't too impressed that their sex life would probably become monotonous fairly quickly if she was just going to lie on her back and take it.

Remembering how she had snuck from his bed the week before, he wanted to see whether she would leave once more, so let his breathing deepen and slow after a few minutes. Severus judged it to be about fifteen minutes later that she carefully slipped out from under the covers and left the room silently without the aid of a light, pulling the door closed with a quiet click. After a few moments he rolled over with a sigh, pulling the pillow she'd been using to his chest. It smelt very faintly of her shampoo, and unconsciously he buried his nose in it as he pondered just what he was going to do, but despite his annoyance at the situation with Hermione, it wasn't long before he slipped deeply into a post-orgasmic sleep.

When Severus work up the next morning with the scent still in his nose it took him a few moments to realise that his wife hadn't returned at some point, and that the warm object that he was pressing his morning hard on against was not her pert and rather lovely backside. It wasn't long before he realised that not only was he was still clutching the pillow tightly, but that he'd dreamt of Hermione half the night. Frustrated and turned on by the vague memories of some rather erotic dreams he climbed out of bed, his bad mood set for the day.

He was fairly foul to Hermione every chance he got that day; at breakfast before she left for work, the moment she got back home, all through the dinner she'd cooked for him, although he wouldn't have been able to explain why if asked. As he crawled into bed besides an even quieter and paler Hermione that night, he did wonder for a moment if he'd been trying to see how hard he could push her before she refused to sleep with him.

His last coherent thought as he insinuated himself between her thighs was, _Thank Merlin she doesn't give in easily._


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

Thanks to all my readers, and especially those who have reviewed. Sorry about the amount of time this has taken to get up, but I've started my teaching practice, and still have several essays/presentations etc to do. I'm never giving up though!

* * *

 

 

Severus stumbled back towards his living room, intent on reaching the sideboard where he normally had at least one bottle hidden from his wife… _ex-wife_. He’d needed a good glass or two most evenings, to steel himself or climbing the stairs and into his lonely bed, all the while knowing that _she_ was only two doors away. Occasionally, when he’d been in a particularly foul mood, he’d compared the current situation to the years of longing after Lily, and some nights it was barely all he’d been able to do to not to go to Hermione and beg for forgiveness.

 

But he’d done that once before, and all he’d got for his troubles was a refusal and the mockery of even more of his school mates than usual. A little voice, quickly pushed aside, had sometimes whispered that perhaps his Hermione was different, that it would work out this time. She’d always been a forgiving sort. Severus snorted hard at the understatement. The Golden Trio would never have got together without her being so, and who know what would have happened to Potter if she hadn’t been there to do all the work.

 

The thought made him feel sick – although, on second though, that was possibly the alcohol. His stomach was beginning to lurch just as much as he was. _Serves me right for thinking about Potter…_

* * *

 

2 years earlier

He was hiding in the corner of the ballroom at one of the Ministry’s blasted public functions again, watching Potter twirl his wife around the room. It was the third such large event since they’d been married; one to commemorate the fourth anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, the other had been some Ministry half-wit’s ridiculous idea to celebrate all the new marriages, as well as trying to throw together all those who had not yet found a partner. He’d not been able to get out of the former, due to his hero status, and although he’d tried to get out of the latter, Lucius had tricked him into going through the bastard had already known he wouldn’t lose. He’d still not revealed why he’d wanted Severus to attend, although he had a sneaky suspicion that because Lucius had to be there, he wanted someone else there to share in his misery.

 

Misery wasn’t the word for it though. The ball had been held on Valentine’s Day in the atrium of the Ministry; the only venue large enough to hold the large numbers of people attending. Severus had been forced to endure hours of sickening public displays of affection, heart-shaped everything – decorations, food, furniture – cupids everywhere, and everything covered in nauseating shades of pink. Even the fountain had been charmed to produce pink and red jets of water, and lightly scented bubbles floated up from the pool to float over the horde of idiots cavorting to the insipid and overly-sentimental music.

 

And now he was stuck at a ball to celebrate the full re-opening of Hogwarts. Not that it had ever been closed, the school had opened to pupils the September following the Battle, but the repairs had only been completely finished over this last summer, and both Severus and his wife had been expected to go. Not that Severus cared about other’s expectations but he knew how important it was for Hermione to attend, and with him too.

 

She’d finally been promoted to where her research and organisational skills were of some use. Of course, if it had been left up to her she never would have moved out of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and would have forever been stuck with letting others take the credit for her hard work. A couple of weeks after their wedding Severus had had a quiet world or two with the right people about the waste of her talents, and a months later she’d been offered a job on the Minister of Magic’s staff, as an assistant and researcher. Severus would be damned if he would allow his wife to continue to be treated the way she had been for so long. As far as he was concerned, her behaviour and status reflected upon him. No wife of his was going to be treated like a workhorse. It would only make him look bad after all.

 

Of course, the downside was that Hermione was expected to attend all the Ministry events, not just the balls, but a number of smaller functions too. It wasn’t proper amongst the society that Severus kept for her not to be accompanied by her husband. Perhaps the younger generations, Hermione included, wouldn’t have cared so much about the old-fashioned etiquette, but Severus had grown up amongst the Purebloods of Slytherin, and had always compared their courteous treatment of their women favourably with the way his own muggle father had treated his mother. However disbelievingly Hermione looked at him when he declared he would be accompanying her, Severus wouldn’t be moved in his beliefs of how they should behave as a couple.

 

Putting on a show of a ‘happy’ marriage, even when the reality was nothing but, was another thing he had picked up from the pureblood families. He’d watched Lucius and Narcissa do it for several years, although the final death of the Dark Lord had brought them back together again, and there were many other families who had been similarly torn, although it would have taken someone as perceptive as Severus to notice. Likewise, he was loathe for anyone to know what a fuck up he’d made of his own marriage so quickly.

 

Despite everything, life had quickly settled down into an easy routine. He had never got into the habit of falling asleep early, and so Hermione was almost always up and sometimes gone before he dragged himself out of bed. She would always make breakfast, and they would either eat in near silence as she caught up with the morning papers, while he started blearily into his coffee, or she would put it under a charm for him if he was late getting up. She was a surprisingly good cook. Hermione had, however, made it clear very quickly that she wasn’t prepared to do all the work around the house. It had been the cause of their first argument; he never counted the night of their wedding; although not the first. When Hermione had told him she refused to live in a dirty house, he had blown up at the thought of her touching his things, in particular his collection of books and his lab.

 

He’d only realised later, once he had agreed to keeping the house clean and split other chores, with her doing the majority of the cooking, how easily she’d manipulated him into doing what she wanted in the first place. He still got the last laugh; hiring a free house-elf called Minky to come in to clean when Hermione was out had barely cost him anything. Of course he didn’t allow the eager creature to touch either his lab or his books, but he had always kept them meticulously clean himself. And he or meals cooked or him, far better than he could make himself, so in all, he felt rather smug about the whole situation.

 

Of course, once Hermione had started her new job she would quite often be home late. If it was something she knew about in advance, she would make sure he knew, but if some last-minute business came up she’d send a patronus. On those occasions Snape would call for Minky and ask her to cook something. It was part of their agreement, as was the stipulation that the elf was never allowed to let Hermione know she’d been there. And of course, Hermione was always grateful when she arrived him late to find warm food waiting for her, especially considering she often didn’t get time during the day to grab more than a snack or two. _Not grateful enough to show me in bed though…_

 

It wasn’t just in bed that they were still distant, they avoided each other most of the day, only coming together in the living room or an hour or so before bed if neither was working. They’d sit mainly in silence as they each read, or in Hermione’s case, occasionally knitted. Conversation was kept to a minimum, and although the silence was pervasive, it was never hostile. Severus could have almost believed it was Lily sitting across from him, not that she’d ever been forgiving enough to cope with him loving another a woman the way Hermione had.

 

The lack of conversation between him and his wife did at times feel strange though, considering how they’d always enjoyed their time out together before their marriage, but he would force himself to consider the alternatives, like being married to one of the harlots that had thrown themselves at him, the decorated war-hero; that still on occasion would proposition him, especially at these types of events when they believed Hermione to be too busy, or even indifferent to notice. But even the most alluring witches couldn’t tempt him anymore. He found them all vain and insipid, and couldn’t bring himself to bed any of them.

 

He told himself it just wasn’t worth the trouble it would cause if Hermione found out he’d been shagging other women. It wasn’t like he wasn’t getting any, what with the two nights a week he had with Hermione, unsatisfying as they were. And as gorgeous as some of these women were, he couldn’t help but compare them to Hermione, who despite not being as beautiful, had other attributed that more than made up for it. It was why he had wanted to marry her over any other, after all. He wasn’t the only one who noticed her, he realised, after careful observations over several balls. He’d lost count of how many dance partners she’d had, a number of which he didn’t know at all, and there were many more men who watched her out of the corner of their eyes as they conversed with friends, or stole the occasional glance at her when their own partners weren’t looking.

 

What if one of them were to tempt her the way these fame-seeking women sought to tempt him? There were many younger and more handsome men out there, might she not cheat on him with one of them? Six months ago Severus would never have considered it, but he was no longer sure of her regard. Perhaps their dismal marriage and his unfortunate confession regarding Lily had made her change her mind. Which made the whole plan that he’d been forming to make his life a little more pleasant utterly futile. He’d been thinking of starting to slowly treat her differently, to do little thing over a period of time and build up to making it appear as if he were slowly falling for her. He wanted to see again the impassioned woman who had graced his bed that first night, to try to convince her to sleep with him more often. She’d never come to him like that again, and he’d soon grown covetous of the passion she’d shown that night. He found himself trying to anger her on purpose, just because he enjoyed the way she got riled up. But if she was going to be unfaithful to him, then he wasn’t prepared to open himself up to such a rejection. He would just have to make the most of what he had, and forget the whole idea.

 

Severus suppressed a deeper scowl as Potter whirled his wife around faster, making her throw her head back and laugh. She never did that with him; laugh and smile so carelessly. They never danced beyond the bare minimum of the one dance that was expected, and even then she was stiff in his arms, her eyes somber even as she pasted a smile on her face. He’d release her to dance with whatever idiot had asked her for the next dance, and retreat. Luckily, as far as his own behaviour went, everyone would have been beyond shocked if he had actually been sociable.  

 

So instead he stood in the shadows, watching as she lit up a room, want to be by her side to bask in her light, but he knew as soon as he did she would lose some of her shine, and he refused to spoil these evenings for her, knowing how important they were for her job. Time and time again he’d watched her at public functions, as he did now, getting wound up about some subject or another, and he would always want to snatch her back home, jealous of whomever the recipient of her happy smile was, and fuck her into the mattress. He’d taken to watching her from the shadows with greedy eyes, not caring that his behaviour had lapsed back to how it had been during his time at Hogwarts. He would forever be the greasy old bat of the dungeons to most, lurking on the periphery was all that was expected of him anyway.

 

Knowing that he would be the one to take her home, rather than any of the dunderheads surrounding her was the only thing that got him though most of those evenings. When it came to any of their interactions, he would always play the doting husband, making sure to bring her drinks to offer his arm to lead her to the apparition point, but as soon as they appeared in his house he would stalk away from her with a scowl, unable to look at his…The bloody events never seemed to fall on the two days a week she would come to his room. He could have sworn she came up with her outfits just to tease him: low backs that made him want to skim his fingers down her spine, soft drapes that clung to her things, high slits that showed off the long legs that had once wrapped so eagerly around his waist. He was constantly torn between hating her and a burning desire to drag her into a dark corner, pull her knickers aside and plunge into her warm heat.

 

He started, growling under his breath as a hand suddenly gripped his shoulder, disrupting the fantasy he was engrossed in, although considering that he now no longer wore his voluminous teaching robes the interruption was probably a good thing. He looked over to see Lucius standing beside him, a smirk plastered across his face, and sighed silently. His friend never missed the chance to poke fun at how uncomfortable Severus always was at these events. Of course, Lucius was in his element here, dressed like a peacock in his pale blue robes, and sweeping around the hall, making easy conversation with everyone in the room. Severus wasn’t sure how his friend had the gall to set foot in the castle, considering the events of only a few years ago, let alone saunter around like he owned the place.

 

He turned back to watch the dance floor, and caught Potter releasing Hermione into the arms of a wizard he recognised as one of the higher-up Ministry flunkey’s that Lucius sometimes had dealings with.

 

“I see you are having as much fun as you normally do,” came the voice from beside him. Severus deigned not to make a reply to such an asinine statement. After a few moment Lucius spoke again. “Your wife certainly seems to be enjoying herself.”

 

Severus felt something in his stomach twist as Hermione dipped her head and smiled at something the flunkey dancing with her had said. “She has the correct disposition for this sort of event,” he replied absently.

 

“She certainly does seem to be popular. I understand she’s become quite the person to go to if you want anything done efficiently and correctly. Monty says he doesn’t know how his office managed to get anything done before she joined them. It seems it won’t be long until she’ll be getting a promotion, and he’s already raised her salary twice.”

 

Severus only raised an eyebrow in response, unwilling to admit his lack of knowledge concerning Hermione’s success. Not that he was surprised. He could well imagine how quickly she’d made herself indispensable in an office that was infamous for its disorganisation and lack of acumen. The recently elected Minister, Montgomery Tuft was marginally better than his predecessors in that he’d recognised the value of utilising Hermione’s skills and proficiency to his own advantage. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted the smug smile that flashed across Lucius’ face. Clearly he’d caught on to the frigid nature of their marriage, and was no doubt feeling pleased with himself for warning Severus not to marry her in the first place. Not that he would ever say such a thing outright.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  

 

They stood side by side for a few minutes longer, exchanging light conversation about various goings on in the wizarding world, as they both watched Hermione’s progress around the floor. Despite Severus’ lack of interest in politics, he’d always found it useful to keep abreast of any news Lucius had for him. It had lead him to make several good investments in the past, the proceeds of which had gone towards supporting him while he set up his potions business. It also now meant he kept up to date with what was happening in the office that Hermione worked in, not that he really cared, of course.

 

Across the room, Hermione swapped partners yet again, this time for Ronald Weasley. Severus let out a faint hiss if disgust as one of his meaty hands came to rest just a little too low on Hermione’s back. By the look on her face, she didn’t seem to notice, although the Brown girl, standing off to one side with a gaggle of friends just as insipid as she, looked unhappy at the sight of her husband mauling another woman.

 

“I am surprised you haven’t yet taught her to choose her associates more wisely.” Severus could almost feel the sneer on Lucius’ face as he spoke, and he briefly looked across to see the blonde aristocrat’s eyes lingering on his wife, before a speculative expression passed across his face, almost too quickly for Severus to spot. After a moment he followed Lucius’ gaze back to the dancefloor and the offending hand.

 

“All things considered, Lucius, that, coming from either of us, would be the pot calling the cauldron black. Besides, who am I to break up the… Golden Trio.” He spat the last two words, as if they left a bad taste in his mouth.”

 

“But all that…unpleasantness is already half forgotten.” Lucius waved a hand as if to dismiss the horrors of their shared past, and Severus had to wonder at his friend’s selective memory. “Since then your wife may have become a… desirable acquaintance, but Weasely in particular is yesterday’s celebrity. His Quidditch contract is up at the end of the season, and I understand he’s not enough of a draw anymore to extend it. He only got the position because of his fame in the first place. It certainly wasn’t his skill in front of the hoops.”

 

Severus could only nod in agreement. His eyes were still fixed to the hand that was very slowly moving lower as the dancing continued.

 

“The whole family is a joke in any case, in decent circles at least,” Lucius continued, his voice growing even more haughty than usual. “Only the two eldest boys are worth mentioning, but even they are tainted by association. And Arthur only gets more ridiculous by the day. Can you imagine, there was actually talk at one point of him becoming Minister? What a mess that would have been!”

 

Severus was barely aware of anything his friend was saying by now. What was Weasely thinking, creating such a display in front of so many, including his own wife? Severus would have been equally as displeased with Hermione for allowing it, had she not at that moment shifted subtly in Weasley’s arms, just enough to force him to bring his hand back up to an respectable distance from her arse. Severus could only just hide his smile at her skilled way of handling the idiot without drawing attention to them both.  

 

“Well if you are not going to intervene, perhaps I might… entice her to spend some time with a worthier partner than her current choice instead.”

 

Severus turned to frown at his friend, for there had been some strange undertone in his words, but Lucius didn’t notice, a predatory gleam in his eye as he watched the couple on the dancefloor. The song changed, and Lucius took the cue to stride confidently towards Hermione. Severus watched with dark eyes as he bowed over her hand, before sweeping her away from Weasely into the next dance. Weasely stood for a moment with a slightly stunned look on his face before he shuffled off the floor towards his wife. Severus smirked at him for a moment before his attention was drawn back to the dancers.

 

From where he was standing he could clearly see how closely Lucius held Hermione against him as he leaned down to whisper close in her ear. Somehow it seemed far worse than the way Weasely had clumsily tried to grope her. Unconsciously Severus took a few steps closer. As the duo turned slightly, he could see the uncomfortable expression on her face, and he was sure it was nothing to do with either Lucius’ status as an ex-DeathEater, or the remembrance of what had happened to her in his house. Since their engagement, the two had met many times, both publically and privately, and while they’d never be best friends, they both got on as well as could be expected. In fact, it hadn’t been until Severus had questioned why the Malfoys seemed to have stopped using the large drawing room that he’d even found out about _dear_ Bellatrix’s torture of his wife.

 

He’d still not seen the scars she’d been left with, although now that he knew to look, he could just make out a slightest flicker of the glamour she wore over it. She’d never said anything, and certainly nothing in her behaviour suggested that either meeting with the Malfoys, or entering the Manor affected her in any way. He’d almost refused to take her back there, but had known she wouldn’t be happy with him assuming she couldn’t cope. She was stronger than she looked, his wife. Which is why he found her current expression so worrying. What was Lucius saying to her? And what gave him the right to hold her so tightly against him?

 

Severus was now almost at the edge of the dancers, his eyes fixed on Hermione as Lucius guided her round the floor towards him. As they neared, their eyes met around Lucius’ shoulder, and he could have sworn a slight smile of relief ghosted across her lips for a moment before she turned her attention back to Lucius, her expression hardening. He took another involuntary step towards then, onto the floor, intending to step in, before he realised that Hermione had already brought them to a halt only a few paces away. Severus moved closer to hear Hermione’s reply to something Lucius had said.

 

“No, thank you Lucius, I think I’ll pass,” she said decisively, turning away from him.

 

Severus smirked to see her confident dismissal of the blonde patriarch. Lucius began to move towards her again, opening his mouth to continue speaking. Severus irritation with his friend peaked, but instead of causing a scene, he crossed the remaining distance in a few smooth steps and pulled his wife into his own arms.

 

“Maybe another time, then,” Severus heard his friend say, before he swept Hermione away.

 

Hermione didn’t respond, and it was a few moments before Severus stopped glaring at the smirking blonde and bent his attention to her, even as he wondered what they had been talking about. Her face was turned slightly away from his, her eyes downcast and a slight blush on her cheeks. They danced in silence for a few minutes, Severus unconsciously holding her closer against him than even Lucius had. All the Gryffindor ‘fierceness’ which he’d seen in her when she’d refused whatever his friend has wanted had left her face. He wondered, not for the first time, why she was only ever calm and gentle, when he knew he deserved whatever she could throw at him, and then more.

 

“What did Lucius want?” he blurted, no longer able to contain his curiosity.

 

Hermione’s mouth twitched slightly, as if with distaste before she looked up at him. “Oh, nothing really.” Her shrug was almost imperceptible.

 

He raised an eyebrow at her when she paused, making it clear he wasn’t satisfied with her answer.

 

After a pause she continued. “He was only talking about the ball and how well Hogwarts looked this evening after the last of the renovations.”

 

 _How…tactful,_ Severus thought as they continued on round the dancefloor, _considering just why the castle needed any work doing to it in the first place_. “What else?” he asked, knowing that it would have taken more to cause her earlier expression. She held his gaze, and for a moment he thought she was going to deny that Lucius had said anything else. He pushed lightly into her mind for the first time since their marriage, but was met with a blank wall. _Strange…_ She’d always been easy to read before. He was about to push further in when she sighed, dropping her eyes before she spoke.

 

“He wanted to know if I wanted a tour of the new and renovated areas of the castle. There have been more than a few changes since the last time I came.”

 

Severus studied the faint blush that spread over her cheeks with distrust. He was fairly sure what had caused it, and why Lucius had made her so discomposed. “Go on,” he growled quietly.

 

Her face crumpled slightly, and she squirmed in his arms. “Severus, you’re hurting me,” she whispered, pushing gently at him without trying to be too obvious.

 

He ignored her. “What did he say?”

 

“He hinted that if I joined him he would be more than happy to find an empty room and show me what I was missing out on with you,” she hissed. “Now let me go!”

 

Realising just how tightly he was crushing her to him, he let go, bringing them both to a halt. “Perhaps we should continue this at home.” His voice was cold and formal, and he could feel his temper rising, despite the curl of guilt that wound through it from having caused her pain, but he managed to keep all traces of anger from his countenance. He watched as she thought for a moment, no doubt trying to decide whether it was acceptable for her to be leaving yet.

 

“I’ll need ten minutes to say goodbye to a few people. Maybe you could give our thanks to Minerva and Filius, and I’ll meet you in the Entrance Hall.

 

He nodded curtly, offering his arm to her to lead her off the dance floor, where they parted and went their separate ways. He looked for Lucius for a few minutes, but he had disappeared completely. In the end he did as requested and went to find his old colleagues. They were both unsurprised to find him going home early, but had hoped to see a bit more of Hermione during the course of the evening. They managed to extract a promise that he would ask her to get in contact to arrange a visit before he could manage to escape. He chose to exit the Hall by the teacher’s route instead of battling through the crowds to the doors at the far end, and stalked quickly through the empty corridors back to the main entrance. He became aware of a faint whisper of voice from around the corner, and upon realising one was his wife’s he stopped dead, before creeping closer to listen.

 

“…have to go early?” Potter was saying.

 

“It’s been a really busy week, Harry. I’m tired and I just want to go home.”

 

“Is everything all right? You didn’t look too happy just now with Malfoy, nor Snape either,” he replied, the concern in his voice clear.

 

 _And why the fuck would that be your business, Potter_? Severus thought.

 

“It’s nothing, really. Lucius was just being a bit of an arse, that’s all.”

 

“It didn’t look like nothing. You should have seen Snape’s face when he was watching you. He looked so angry when you were dancing with Malfoy, I was worried he was going to pull his wand.”

 

There was a moment of quiet, before Hermione murmured a reply, too quiet for Severus to make out.

 

“Is everything ok… with you and Snape, I mean?”

 

Severus could feel his blood begin to boil. Who was Potter to interfere between him and his wife?

 

“Everything’s fine, Harry.”

 

If he believed that, he was a fool, Severus thought. He could hear the strain in her voice from round the corner, and he knew from experience Hermione could never keep a lie from showing on her face.

 

“But…”

 

“Harry Potter…”

 

Severus smirked to hear the tone of her voice. He recognised it all to well from years of listening to Hermione berating her two obtuse sidekicks. She’d only used it once on Severus, thank Merlin. Once was more than enough. He could only imagine the look on Potter’s face, but it lessened his anger a little.

 

“Can you can honestly say that there is nothing but total agreement between you and Ginny every moment of every day? Do I butt in on your relationship all the time? It is none of your business what happens between my husband and me. If I want your help or advice I will ask you for it.”

 

There was a few seconds of silence, and he could only guess at the scene: The famous Boy who Lived Twice would be staring at the floor, his face red and bashful, in front of a fiery, riled-up Hermione. He wondered if there were even sparks crackling in her hair. His cock twitched at the thought. He’d always loved the sight of her all wound up and passionate, and the fact that she was defending him to Potter made him want her even more.

 

Severus chose this moment to emerge from his hiding place around the corner, and, despite the lack of billow from the absent teaching robes, still managed to cut an intimidating figure as he strode towards them. It was just as he had imagined, his wife with her back to him, hands on hips, and a shamefaced Potter before her. The latter quickly spotted Severus over Hermione’s shoulder, and with a hastily muttered goodbye, left in the other direction, walking slightly faster that was natural.

 

As Severus came up behind Hermione, she whirled to face him. For a moment he saw some emotion, not anger or irritation, flare in her eyes at the sight of him before it was quickly shuttered.

 

“I’m ready to go now, Severus,” she said quietly.

 

He moved closer, intrigued not only by the fleeting expression he’d seen, but also her suddenly shifting demeanour. How could she be so assertive with Potter one second and then so reserved with him the next? He was fed up of seeing her so reticent, so restrained around him. As he moved closer her scent washed over him, delicately spicy, and as he gazed down into her amber eyes he felt the last flush of anger washed away with a tide of rising desire. He wanted her. He fought against the impulse to pull her into his arms and ravish those plump lips with his own, even as his fingers trailed down her exposed spine, but the moment he spotted how Potter was lingering at the entrance back into the main hall, watching them cautiously, Severus threw caution to the wind.

 

Wrapping his arms around her, he ignored the way her eyes widened in surprise, and pressed his mouth to hers. It took a moment for her to respond, but when he flicked his tongue against her slightly parted lips, she relented and opened them to him as her hands came round to clutch at his back. Severus quickly lost himself in the sweet taste of her, pouring out all the pent-up passion he’d kept from her the last few months. He pulled her tighter against him as his fingers finally got to explore the warm skin of her back. Her quiet moan into his mouth as she melted into his embrace suddenly brought him back to the moment, and he pulled back slightly to look down into her flushed face, her eyes dazed with arousal.

 

Peeking over her head to where Potter still stood, his mouth gaping slightly Severus saw that a couple of others had also made their way into the entrance, presumably also leaving early, and were sending a few amused glances down the corridor towards them. To his annoyance he was sure he’d just caught sight of the younger Creevey boy ducking back into the Great Hall, camera in hand, but it was made up for by the fact that Lucius had also paused to watch, some Ministry official that he was no doubt dragging off to have a quiet chat with by his side.

 

With her back to their spectators, Hermione hadn’t yet noticed any of the gawking, so with a smirk down the corridor and one last brush of his lips against hers, Severus made use of the privilege that had never been rescinded from his time as headmaster, and apparated them both straight back to his bedroom.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

It's been a reeeeeealy long time since I upated, I know, and I'm sorry. Uni work and school experience have been exhausting, but I'm getting there. Hopefully it wont be as long before the next update. I plan to get another one up before school starts again. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

 

Severus wiped his lips with a dirty sleeve, and reached out to twist the tap on. The contents of his stomach quickly disappeared down the drain. Cupping some water in his hands he rinsed his mouth out, the acrid taste of bile only fading somewhat as he spat it out into the sink. Abandoning the last shreds of his dignity he stuck his head under the tap and drank deeply.

 

When he’d had his fill he turned off the tap and stood again, but the quick movement made his head spin, and he had to clutch the work-surface once more to stop himself from falling over. After a few moment his head cleared, but he was left with a pulsing tightness at his temples that signalled an oncoming headache. Pain potions didn’t react well with alcohol, so he had two choices; either drown the ache with the remainder of the bottle that was still lying on the floor where he’d dropped it in the rush to the sink, or find a bottle of Sober-Up Potion before taking something for the pain.

 

Bending down – very slowly – to grab the bottle, he discovered that much of the remaining liquid had spilled out onto the floor and there were barely a few mouthfuls left. Not nearly enough to obliterate either pain or consciousness. The Sober-Up it would have to be, although he had no idea what to do with himself once he was no longer plastered, unless it was to go down to the dingy corner shop and stock up on cheap booze. He’d have to sleep off the dual potions before he could work on getting wasted again. Perhaps a Sleeping Draught and some Dreamless Sleep would be necessary in the meantime. There was no way he could risk seeing her in his dreams. The memories were hard enough to bear.

 

* * *

 

2 years earlier

Even before their feet touched the ground she was pulling his smock coat from his shoulders, sliding her hands around his back to tug at his shirt where it was tucked in. With difficulty Severus reached round behind her to flick the buttons on his coat sleeves open so he could tug them off his wrists. She was on him then, feverishly pulling at his clothes and dragging him toward his bed. She pressed her lips to his newly exposed chest, his neck, anywhere she could reach. Severus watched her with dark eyes, just enjoying the feel of her mouth on him, encouraging her with gentle fingers winding through her hair and down her back, as he fought to hide his amazement at her unusually wanton behaviour.

 

Hermione finally managed to divest him of his shirt and push his trousers own over his hips, before she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for another searing kiss. Unwilling to spoil the moment by doing something that might cause her to reconsider, Severus decide to take his cues from his wife and let her lead the encounter. Carefully he used his feet to pull his trousers completely off, and when Hermione began to pull at the ties keeping her backless dress on, he used his nimble fingers to help her.

 

As soon as the silk material slid down her body to pool at her feet she was guiding him backwards once more, and Severus let her push him down to the bed. Hermione paused for a moment to shimmy her knickers off, and he took the opportunity to take the sight in. It was certainly something he’d not seen fully before, as he’d not taken a moment to appreciate her beauty the night of their wedding, and of course he’d barely seen anything of her since, hidden as she always was beneath the sheet. But now he could admire fully the slight curve of her waist and hips, her breasts two perfect handfuls, her English Rose complexion flawless except for the scars that were a testament to her bravery.

 

She hesitated a moment longer, and although her posture seemed confident, when Severus looked up into her eyes he could see the slightest trace of insecurity. Her lips curved slightly as their eyes met, and he realised how obvious he was being in his admiration of her. He felt a tightening in his chest as it dawned on him that, despite her anxiety, she was taking full advantage of the rare chance to bask in his attention. Unable to look her in the eye, knowing that it had been his own conduct that was the cause of her misery, he grabbed her hand and tugged her towards him.

 

She fell into his arms, and they sank down together on the bed so that he was flat on his back with her creamy white thighs straddling him. Without any preliminaries she guided him into the warmth between her legs, hissing as he sank deep into her, wet as she already was. There was a moment’s hesitation before she lifted herself up, only to impale herself on him once more. The expression of pleasure on her face as he filled her made him groan and dig his fingers into her hips, encouraging her to move faster. He watched, his eyes fixed on her face as she unashamedly took her pleasure.

 

Her eyes were lidded, her teeth sunk deep into her lower lip in concentration as she began to move faster and faster. Severus couldn’t help but lift his hips to meet her. She was a completely different creature from the one that normally came to his bed; not even on their wedding night had she been so eager, so desperate to find completion with him.

 

Cupping his hands over the breasts that bounced gently with each movement of her body against his, he pulled lightly at the puckered buds, kneading the soft flesh with his rough and calloused fingers. She was so quick to reach her peak, crying out so sweetly as she threw her head back, that he was almost taken by surprise. The way she tightened around his hard length in response was almost too much, and he knew that if he didn’t take control it would be over far too quickly. He grabbed her hips, twisting her so she fell to bed, and rolled on top of her to settle back into the cradle of her hips.

 

Watching her face as he reached down to grab his cock and guide it into her, he didn’t miss the flicker of doubt that flashed across it. In a heartbeat he realised the reason –he’d put her back into the same position that they used for their passionless union week after week. Wanting to distract her before the moment was ruined, he hooked one arm under her knee, lifting it to allow him to push deeper, and lowered his mouth to hers.

 

There was a few seconds’ hesitation where she didn’t respond, but soon she began to press her lips back against his, wrapping her arms around his neck and rocking her hips against him as he began to move. Soon he was lost in her, barely aware of anything beyond the feel of her against and around him, her soft gasps in his ears, and the frantic pressing of their lips against every inch of skin that could be reached.

 

They moved as one for long minutes that seemed to pass as seconds, and slowly Severus became conscious of a strange feeling of rightness, that this was how things were supposed to be. It was quickly lost in the euphoria of his approaching orgasm. Wanting Hermione to topple over the edge once more before he came himself, he pushed himself up onto his knees, dragging her back down onto him and reaching again for her mouth with his. With one hand he reached between their bodies, using his thumb to flick gently at her swollen nub, as he began to pound into her more furiously than before.

 

Feeling her core beginning to pulse around him, he pulled back the moment before she came, wanting to see her face before he joined her. For the briefest second their eyes met, before her eyelids fluttered closed and her climax overcame her. Pressing his face into the hollow of her neck, Severus finally let go, grunting with pleasure as he spilled himself deep within her.

 

When he came back to his senses he realised how heavily he was sprawled on top of her, although she lay there silently, unprotesting. He rolled to one side, unconsciously pulling her with him, and, closing his eyes, waited for his heart to stop pounding. He didn’t want to spoil the moment by saying the wrong thing now. Not that he was… he could barely even think the word… ‘cuddling’ her. No, the bedroom was cold and the blanket too far away. And of course it didn’t feel all that pleasant to be lying there with her, it was just… convenient, especially after the amazing sex they’d just had. His arm was sure to go numb soon anyway, and then she’d have to move.

 

It took a few minutes for the post-orgasmic haze to recede while they lay there quietly. Severus was having a hard time deciding what, if anything, he should say to her. Slowly he opened his eyes to look down at her cautiously. She lay next to him, her head resting cautiously on his shoulder. Their legs were still entwined, but her eyes were wide and fearful. She seemed like a deer caught in headlights; frozen for a moment but ready to bolt in a second.

 

Trailing his eyes down her, he could already see where she’d begun to bruise from his fingers digging hard into her hips. He couldn’t help the smirk that crossed his face at the physical proof of his recent claiming of her. But Hermione must have misinterpreted the expression, for she flinched, and shrunk back from him slightly.

 

They stared at each other silently for a few moments before she spoke, her voice so quiet he had to strain to hear.

 

“Severus…?”

 

She shifted to sit up, and he couldn’t help the way his eyes dropped to her pert breast as they jiggled gently with her movement.

 

“Severus… say something please,” she pleaded.

 

“What do you want me to say?” he enquired harshly, irritated that the relaxed mood had been so easily interrupted.

 

“Wha… what was this?”

 

“If you don’t know what sex is by now, I’m not sure you deserve the moniker of ‘brightest witch of you Age after all.” The cutting words seemed to fall automatically from his lips. “What else did you think it was? Did you expect for me to confess my feelings for you?” The moment the words were out of his mouth he wished he could take them back.

 

She started grabbing the sheet and pulling it up around her naked body. One part of him watched with regret as her glorious breasts disappeared from sight.

 

“I thought, maybe… I hoped…” she trailed off, her head bowed. “I can’t believe I was so fucking stupid,” she whispered, more to herself than him.

 

The smirk faded from his face as he searched for the right words that would stop things from going back to the way they had been. But his mind was blank. He had no honeyed words to whisper in her ear. He didn’t know how to sweet-talk and flatter a woman. Even with the Dark Lord he had never been able to reproduce the nauseating fawning and adulation that Lucius had always been so good at. Half a lifetime spent in a household where angry words and fists to the face had been the norm had not prepared him for how to treat or speak to others well, although it had drawn him earlier than expected into the inner circle his bluntness and candour appreciated by a Lord surrounded by sycophants.

 

With a start, he realised that Hermione was already scrambling from the bed, tugging the sheet from where it was tucked under one corner of the mattress, and dragging it with her. She turned to leave, the glimmer of tears in her eyes. He had to say something. If she left now things may well be irreparable.

 

“Hermione, I…”

 

She turned on him suddenly, the misery that had been on her face a few moments before turned to anger. “You what? Just needed a good fuck? Or was it because you didn’t like Lucius playing with your toys?”

 

He felt his own temper flare at the memory of watching the two of them dance. “Lucius had no right to speak to you like that,” he growled, scrambling out of bed to loom over her. “You are mine, whether you like it or not.”

 

“So it wasn’t that you were jealous of the fact that someone else might actually desire me?”

 

He sneered. “You are mistaken. Lucius has always played his own game. Whatever you thought he was offering you I can assure you it was not that. Besides, I thought that after all this time that you were more intelligent than to put stock in any of Potter’s ridiculous fancies about me.”

 

“Oh, I knew Harry would come into this sooner or later,” she spat back at him.

 

“And why not? I heard more than enough of your earlier conversation to know that he is sticking his nose in where it doesn’t belong. How we conduct our marriage is none of his business.”

 

“He’s my friend. He’s allowed to be concerned.”

 

“He was impugning my honour _and_ my position as your husband.”

 

“Your _position_ …,” Hermione choked out. “So all this…” she waved her hand at the untidy bed, “was to prove a point… _to Harry_.” The last words came out as a hiss.

 

Frustrated with his own inability to stop his marriage disintegrating further he snapped, uttering words he knew he would regret later. “Don’t forget Lucius too. Both of them chose to discuss the state of our marriage, so I thought they would appreciate a demonstration. You should have seen both his and Potter’s faces as they watched you trembling with arousal in my arms. Perhaps they will think twice next time before discussing things which are not their business!”

 

She froze, her mouth half open in the process of forming a retort when his words fully hit her. She stared at him in shock for a moment before her face shuttered and all emotion drained from her face. Her eyes however, reflected so much hurt and suffering that he could barely look at her.

 

“I see.” Her voice was cold. “So our marriage is nothing more than a performance for the benefit of others.”

 

 _Shit!_ How had things spiralled so quickly out of control? “That’s not…”

 

“In which case, I would appreciate it if next time you informed me of the part you expect me to play, so I know better how to act in front of our audience.” She looked him up and down slowly, the slightest hint of feigned disgust in the way her lips curled at the sight, and he was suddenly conscious of the fact that he was still naked. “I would also prefer it if you left the pantomime at the door in future. I’m sure you wouldn’t want me to develop any false ideas about what you might be feeling.

 

He could feel his chest tightening with every word she uttered. “No, Hermione… I…”

 

“You what? You’re sorry? Or were you going to say that you love me?” She laughed mirthlessly. “Don’t worry, you’ve completely managed to disabuse me from any notion I may have in that regard. I won’t be so foolish to consider it possible again.”

 

She stormed out, slamming the door behind her. Slowly Severus sank down to the bed, head in hands. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d had it all within his reach, and he’d fucked it up yet again. Why was he so incapable of uttering three little words that, while a lie, would have given him exactly what he wanted? The thought of the long years ahead, so close and yet so far from what he wanted; his wife coming willingly to his bed, seemed insurmountable, even more so now he had experienced all her passion and enthusiasm mere minutes previous.

 

Why did the girl insist on wanting him to feel something for her? Why couldn’t they just take enjoyment from each other and live amicably together? They were clearly capable of both, as the years of ‘friendship’ before their engagement and the excellent sex attested. How could she expect him to feel something for her when he’d made it clear that his heart belonged to Lily?

 

But why did his chest hurt when he thought of the look on her face as she had fled his room, and why did the idea of carrying on the pretence of a happy marriage outside these four walls while the truth was so very contradictory fill him with dread? After all, he had everything he wanted: A wife intelligent and independent enough to not drive him insane, and one he desired enough not to chafe against the Ministry imposed regulations. They could have had a comfortable life together. They were both highly intelligent and practical. Why did love have to come into it? Love caused nothing but pain. He wanted none of it.

 

His chest was now so tight that he’d curled up into a ball and had pressed his arms hard against in a effort to relieve the ache. Severus wondered if he’d actually pulled a muscle during sex, or if he’d eaten something at the ball that was disagreeing with him stomach. For a few moments he debated whether or not to retrieve a Pain Potion from the bathroom cupboard, but the possibility of coming across Hermione in the hall made him dismiss the idea. He couldn’t bear it if she saw him like this, and just the thought of moving from his bed now seemed impossible.

 

Wandlessly he managed to summon the blanket from where it had fallen on the floor, and pulled it around him. He tried his hardest to ignore the wetness upon his cheeks, and told himself that the feeling in his chest was a mere discomfort compared to the agony of what he’d endured under the Dark Lord, but it was many hours before the feeling faded enough for him to fall into a troubled sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

Thanks for all the amazing reviews guys! They mean so much to me!

* * *

 

 

As the last of the lingering traces of firewhiskey in his veins evaporated, Snape crumpled once more to the floor in agony, both physical and emotional. The pain potion which he managed to scrabble around for and eventually tip into his mouth only took care of the former, and once he was free of it, the whole weight of his misery crashed down upon him. He was acutely aware of the emptiness of the house around him, the absence she’d left behind an almost tangible entity. The picture on the mantel piece him seemed to mock him, a pitiful reminder of the potential happiness he had been so quick to squander. The whole bloody house seemed to mock him for that matter the furniture that she had chosen, as abandoned and uncared for as he.

 

He’d never felt so lonely, not even during that terrible year as Headmaster.

 

Sobering up had been an awful idea.

 

Not that getting drunk again was a better one. Now that he was fully sober for the first time in over three weeks, the thought of buying cheap booze to get him back into the state he’d been in seemed far less appealing than it had a few minutes before.

 

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been there, curled up on the floor and soaking in his own misery, but the house was dark when a loud rapping at the door made him jump. For a moment his heart leapt with the thought that it might be her. But brutal reality set in all too quickly, and he knew that it would never be her. How could it be, after everything he’d done to her? The knock sounded again, and he debated whether or not to ignore it the way he’d ignored all callers since _she_ left.

* * *

 

1 year, 11 months earlier

 

Severus lay in bed, waiting for his door to open silently and for her to enter. It would be the first time since that awful night that she would come to his bed, almost a month ago. He known he’d hurt her, more than before, not that he’d been any more capable of rectifying the situation, as he still wasn’t ready to admit out loud that there was anything wrong, let alone that it was his fault. But deep down, he knew that he’d crossed a line that night, one he wasn’t sure he could step back over.

 

Even so, he hadn’t expected her to go to such extremes to avoid him.

 

…

 

Three nights after the ball he’d gone to bed, expecting her to be there waiting for him. It had been the last night to complete the second of the required two copulations for that week, and as usual she had gone up early. But when he’d reached his room he’d found his bed as empty as it was every other night of the week that she wasn’t forced into it.

 

Assuming that she’d be along any minute he’d made his own preparations and climbed into bed, grabbing his new book off the bedside table to read until she appeared. It was a testament to the excellence of the text that he’d read for over an hour without lifting his eyes from the pages before realising Hermione still had not come.

 

Laying the book aside, he’d climbed out of bed, grumbling under his breath, and gone in search of her. He’ known from his own wards on the house that she had not left, and when he’d reached her door, he’d found it locked and warded. Judging by her lack of response when he’d begun to bang on the wood, she’d also erected a silencing charm. Fighting a rising wave of panic he’d retreated to his room before he’d wound up smashing through her wards and doing something he’d regret even more than his treatment of her earlier in the week.

 

Once there he’d begun to pace, confused and dismayed at the position she was putting him in. If they didn’t copulate as require by the Ministry they would investigate, wanting to know why. And if there was no good reason they might dig further into his marriage. There may be questions about the lack of a pregnancy, and even if he was able to convince them it was still early days there would undoubtedly be more scrutiny on them than before. And who knows what other things might be brought to light about their relationship. Gossip was always rife amongst Ministry officials, and Severus knew that talk about any of the Golden Trio, or even himself, invariably made its quick way to ears eager for a scandal to print.

 

He’d not known what to do. On the one hand he’d not wanted to shatter his already delicate relationship with his wife, but was the risk of an investigation worth it, especially considering the Ministry had the power to invalidate any of the marriages they deemed to be defective. He didn’t want to lose her. Even after everything that had happened between them, he’d do just about anything to stop their marriage from being dissolved. No doubt he’d be forced into union with some leftover hag in any case, and living with a wife that hated him was far better living with one that _he_ hated.

 

But one thing had kept him from breaking into her room and fulfilling the Ministry decree. The idea of forcing himself upon her was so revolting that it had overcome his fear of losing her. It was hard enough when she was silent and still beneath him, but if she refused him completely he could not imagine violating her in such a way.

 

After an hour or so he’d eventually dropped to the bed with exhaustion, the feeling of pressure in his chest almost crushing him, the idea of losing her making him want to choke with fear. He’d barely slept that night, having woken from more than one half-remembered nightmare, and upon waking had found himself still curled up on top of his blankets.

 

Wearily he’d showered and dressed before making his way downstairs, the heaviness in both his body and mind combining to make it feel as if he’d overindulged in firewhiskey the night before.

 

He hadn’t known what he’d expected to find, but his breakfast, sitting as always on the kitchen table under a warming charm, waiting for him to appear, had not been it. The one bite of toast that he’d taken tasted enough like ash that he’d immediately banished the lot, plate and all, to oblivion, before descending to his lab. Not that he’d got anything done beyond checking on the couple of potions that still had to mature for a few days, as he’d been far too busy sulking in the dark.

 

For three days he’d barely saw sight nor sound of Hermione, although he’d not exactly been making an effort to be sociable either. His meals, however, had continued to appear, morning and evening, but each was scarcely touched before the rest was binned. A hollow feeling, not just from the lack of food, grew larger daily, low in his stomach. He knew that his appearance was becoming more and more frightful as he began to neglect not only his meals but his own hygiene, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. If he lost her, none of that would matter anyway.

 

Each night he’d gone to bed early, telling himself that he was just tired, and not just waiting and hoping that she would appear, but unable to sleep easily, or even concentrate on his book. It was just a matter of time, he knew, before the Ministry would start sticking their noses into their marriage.

 

And then, on the fourth morning, exactly what he’d been dreading had occurred: A Ministry owl had tapped at the window, disturbing his pensive stupor over another uneaten breakfast. With shaking hands he’d torn the red seal open, bile rising in his throat as he began to read.

 

A few moments later, the parchment had dropped to the table from numb fingers and had lain there, half-forgotten in the wake of the message it had contained, until Hermione returned some hours later.

 

Snape had, at some point, made his way into the sitting room, where he’d sat, dazed and bewildered, lost in thought half the day. The sound of her entering through the back door roused him, and slowly he stood to face the door through which he expected her to walk any moment. Motionlessly he waited, his ears straining to hear the crackling sound the parchment being opened enough to read.

 

When she’d finally appeared, her face had been pale and wan, but hard, as if expecting a confrontation. The parchment hung limply from her fingers. They stared at each other for a few moments, both unwilling to be the first to speak.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he ground out, unable to bear the silence any longer

 

Hermione sighed almost inaudibly. “There was nothing to tell, Severus,” she replied, her voice soft tired.

 

“Nothing to tell?” He’d stridden forward, grabbing her wrist and wrenching it up so the evidence of his displeasure was held suspended between them. “When did this happen?”

 

She’d winced briefly with the pressure of his fingers gripping her tightly, but otherwise had made no sign that he was hurting her. Severus relaxed his grip a little.

 

“I told you, nothing happened.”

 

Her unnatural calmness had only infuriated him more. “Then why does this letter tell me we’ve been excused from marital relations for a month.”

 

She’d pulled her hand free. “What do you want me to say, Severus? That I lied about the reasons why I needed a break from… this?” She’d gestured between them. “It’s not like I could tell them the truth, is it?”

 

He’d felt a wave of relief wash over him, although there were still questions he wanted answered before his anxiety could be assuaged. He pulled the letter from her hand to wave it at her accusingly. “You’re telling me you’ve deceived the Ministry? Should I expect the aurors to bang on the door to arrest us at any moment, or will this fiction manage to stand up to greater scrutiny?”

 

“You don’t need to worry,” she’d sneered back. “I managed to trade a favour with someone who would have even more to lose if they revealed our deal. The maternity unit at St Mungo’s will be receiving the full grant they requested, despite having already been warned that the application would be sure to fail. They won’t risk having to repay it all, not with the expected rise in births to come. And as for their side of the bargain, well, let’s just say they’re not exactly supporters of this bloody law, and can well understand the need for some respite from scheduled fucking.” She’d paused for a moment. “It does tend to take the romance out of it all somewhat, don’t you think?” she’d added, her voice bitter, before turning to leave.

 

“So… the child…?” he’d asked softly, all fight having gone out of him.

 

“There was never any child Severus. I assume you’d be relieved about that, in any case.”

 

He barely heard her climb the stairs towards her room, leaving him alone once more. Relief had coursed through him, although there was a strange twinge of disappointment that he couldn’t quite understand, considering he should have known there was no chance of a pregnancy. He’d sat back own in the chair he had occupied for so many hours today, automatically smoothing the parchment out over his lap as he tried to sort out his feelings. His fingers had unconsciously traced the words that had caused him so much distress; _‘…having recently suffered a miscarriage, the Ministry has excused you…”,_ but once he’d realised what he was doing he’d crumpled the letter into a ball, intending to throw it into the fire. At the last minute he thought better of it, realising that perhaps it would be needed in the future, and instead had thrown it into the seat she always occupied, and stormed down to his lab, where he’d proceeded to extract a bottle of firewhiskey from its hiding place and drink until he’d passed out in the single ratty armchair in the corner.

 

In its place on the chair a floor above, the parchment had slowly uncrumpled enough to reveal the odd half sentence, including the one which had so perturbed him until Hermione had revealed it all for the lie it was.

 

…

 

And now, those weeks apart at an end, Severus waited, torn between nervousness and impatience, for his wife to appear. His anxiety over her attitude and expectations as she returned to his bed were going to do him no favours, and by the time she did creep quietly into his room, he was so tense that he jumped out of bed to greet her, only remembering his nakedness when she stopped and stared in bewilderment at his strange behaviour.

 

His cheeks flushing a deep pink, he scrambled back into bed, abandoning his dignity completely when his feet tangled in the sheets, almost causing him to fall on his face. It was a few moments before he’d recovered his composure enough to look at her, so whether she’d found amusement in his clumsy performance he’d never know. Certainly there was no hint of mirth in her expression when he turned to face her.

 

She had already climbed in beside him, and was clearly in no mood to procrastinate, for, instead of pulling up the cover around her, she’d left it lying around her waist, and the lack of nightclothes left her naked to his gaze. Despite all of his earlier apprehension, he found his body responding eagerly to the sight of her. The last month had been almost unbearable, not being able to touch her after having become used to regular sex.

 

He reached out to caress her breasts, lowering his mouth to suck gently on one pink bud. He could feel her stiffen beneath him, and when he looked up at her, her eyes were closed but clearly not in pleasure, judging by the tension in her jaw. A desire to ensure her pleasure before his own led him to redouble his efforts at her breasts with his lips, gently running his fingers over the curves of her body. The small sigh that escaped her only encouraged him, and slowly his hand moved lower, until he was nudging her legs apart. But when he reached down to caress her hard nub she shifted, trapping his fingers so that he couldn’t continue.

 

“Please Severus… don’t…” She swallowed audibly. “…please don’t do that.” She turned her face away from him slightly, making it hard for him to read the expression in her eyes.

 

He felt something inside him harden. _If that’s how she wants it…_ He tugged his hand free, and immediately her legs relaxed, easily parting once more as he moved over her to settle in between them.

 

“As you wish…” was his only reply before he slowly filled her. No longer caring for her pleasure, he only thought of his own as he thrust into her. Despite his earlier eagerness, it seemed to take an age before he felt his balls tighten, and looking down at her, her own impatience for him to finish was clear in the way she was staring fixedly at the ceiling. The feeling of accomplishment and relief when he finally emptied his seed into her was colossal, and he rolled straight off her onto his back, gasping with the exertion.

 

The sound of his heavy breathing was the only sound in the room for a minute or two. As the seconds ticked by, the feeling of awkwardness grew. Before he could say anything, however, she was gone, slipping out quietly, leaving his body satiated, but his need for her, strangely unfulfilled.

 


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

* * *

 

In the end Severus decided to see who it was before deciding whether or not to open the door. The likelihood that it was Minerva was high. He could couldn't think of anyone else who would be bothered enough to come, and while he hadn't got a glimpse of the elf that had been delivering food, he had recognised the crockery and cutlery as coming from Hogwarts, and she was certainly the only member of staff that cared enough to make sure he was fed.

He managed to drag himself up to his feet and stumbled towards the front window and pulled the curtain just back enough to peer out. By the light of the moon and the dim lamp further down the street he could see that it was indeed Minerva standing on his doorstep, her face half hidden by the wide brim of her hat. Reaching into her sleeve she pulled out her wand as he watched, pointing it at his front door. Severus smirked to himself, knowing full well that the many layer of warding he'd spent years erecting around his home would be beyond her skill to unravel, laced through as they were with many dark spells.

Feeling the tingle of his wards, he hurried toward the front door, not realising until he'd reached out for the handle that he'd decided to let her in. His smirk faded as he felt the outer layer of his wards drop. The old windbag must be blasting through rather than using any finesse to take them down. He wasn't why he'd expected any different, not from a Gryffindor, especially this one.

He wrenched the door open, scowling out from the shadows at the witch that seemed completely unsurprised by his appearance at the door, even going so far as to look smug.

"I knew that would get your attention," she crowed as she pushed past him into the front room. She tisked under her breath as she peered around the dark room, before wordlessly using her wand to conjure a few candles. "I'd hoped that elf was exaggerating, but…" she trailed off as he moved forward a pace, leaving the shadows by the doorway so that the candlelight fell on his face.

"Merlin, Severus. What have you done to yourself, my boy?" Her voice was pained. "I should have forced my way in sooner…"

She stepped forward, lifting her hands to his shoulders as if to draw him into a hug, although her expression carried a hint of wariness, as if he were some wild animal that would spook at her touch.

It had the opposite effect however. He hadn't even realised how the lack of human contact over the past weeks had affected him, but the moment she touched him he needed more, and he sank into her embrace, shocking her completely as he uncharacteristically broke down and wept on her shoulder.

* * *

 

1 year earlier

Life had settled back down into a routine fairly quickly after that night. He had feared recriminations from Hermione at some point over the way he'd treated her, and had been surprised when she just continued as before, as if nothing had ever happened. Well, on the surface at least.

Weekends were often spent similarly to weekdays, for Hermione was often called into the office to do extra work, or would spend time with her friends. Severus rarely left the house except to visit his apothecary, to buy or gather ingredients, or on rare occasions, visit the few friends he had. He would usually do more reading that on weekdays, sat in his favourite chair by the fire, or complete the few jobs around the house that he wouldn't allow the house elf to do, but all too often he would have to continue monitoring a potion or two that took a days or even weeks to brew.

Monday to Fridays Hermione would have left for work by the time he crawled out of bed, leaving breakfast waiting for him in the kitchen. He would wolf it down before either descending to his lab to work the day away, or disappearing off to the apothecary that was the front for his business, slipping in the back as always.

It had never been his way to leave important matters, such as the running of a business, to others when he could do them himself, but he'd not been able to deal with the publicity or the sheer number of people who came to gawp at him when he'd first opened the apothecary. He'd quickly started looking for a couple of employees to manage the shop and the simpler brewing. The benefit of having taught the majority of witches and wizarding younger than him was that he already had a good idea of who might meet his exacting standards. Even so, he'd gone through a couple of spineless idiots before he was happy with the small team whom he judged competent enough to not need his constant supervision to brew and run the store and mail order business. The unusual or more difficult potions he brewed himself at home, meaning that on the whole he was able to spend the majority of his time in his own company, which was far preferable to that of the majority of people.

His need for solitude never seemed to extend to his wife, however. She had always been one of the few people whose company he would seek. Some days it was all too easy to curse himself for what he had said to her in the past, not because it was untrue, but because he had done himself out of an agreeable companion. Their conversation was never again as easy and free as it had been before their marriage, and Severus often caught himself wishing things could have been different. But it was impossible. He had made his bed and would have to lie in it. At least it could have been worse, he told himself in commiseration.

The weeks following the ball had been particularly awful, but at least things had eventually begun to improve. For the first couple of months she had spent much of her time in her room, all interactions between them strained, especially at the weekends unless she was out with her friends or doing overtime. Not since that month-long hiatus had she shown any reluctance to come to his bed, although she had continued in the same vein as before; quiet and still, unwilling to let him provide her with any sort of pleasure. She persisted in leaving his bed for her own afterwards, except on one rather memorable occasion when she'd come home drunk, and had promptly fallen asleep, her arms still wrapped around him. He'd left the bed early before she'd awoken in the morning, unwilling to risk her seeing how much he was discomfited by his own enjoyment of her lithe body pressed against his. It had been the first time he'd really noticed that she'd lost weight. When he had reached down to stroke her warm skin, his eyes watching her face warily for any sign of waking, his fingers had encountered ribs and hip bones far more prominent than they had been before. Not that she'd ever had much fat on her to begin with.

He'd started taking an interest in how much she was eating, although it had been hard with her leaving for work so early and spending lunch times at work. In the evenings, however, he had started to make sure there was a good dinner waiting for her at home, and he made sure to sit with her to eat. At first conversation had been extremely stilted, barely more than polite but impersonal questions about each others' days, and his gentle entreaties for her to eat more.

Over the following months he learned what foods she would be more willing to take seconds of, and began to cook them more often. From the looks she would give him it was clear she had caught on to what he was doing, and although she was clearly not sure of his motives, she never said anything, for which he was glad. Telling her that he didn't want to fuck a stick wouldn't have gone down well, and the truth, that he felt hollow and pained whenever he thought of how thin she'd been, probably wouldn't have been believed anyway. Not that the idea that he was worried about her had even crossed his mind, as unused as he was to caring about others.

It wasn't long before she gained all the weight she had lost, and even a bit more. He loved how the extra curves looked at felt, and would have tried to show it in their nights together, only she would shut down any attempt at doing anything more than was required to get himself off. Severus could only wonder at her restraint and determination to refuse all pleasure.

He had begun finding it harder and harder to keep his eyes off her, whatever they were doing. He took most pleasure from occasionally sitting quietly with her in the evenings, both with a book in their hands, sure that it was exactly what they would have been doing had he managed to keep his feelings for Lily a secret. Except, they would have possibly been sat together on the sofa, enjoying the touch of each other's bodies, instead of in separate chairs facing each other. He would have happily spent more time reading with her, except that all too often he felt unable to face her. Something would tighten in his chest at the thought of trying to ignore the occasional glimmer of unshed tears that he would catch in an unguarded moment or the empty smiles she gave him when their eyes met.

When he did manage to push past his own feelings and manage to sit with her for any length of time, however, he would find that whole evenings would go past with him barely taking in a word of his book. If she'd noticed that he rarely turned a page, she'd certainly never said anything. Not that he was trying to be obvious in his silent study of her, either hiding behind the dark curtain of his hair or positioning his book so he could just see her around the edge. She always seemed lost in her own book or her thoughts, rarely looking up at him, but there was something in her face, a quiet melancholy that he knew he had put there. It made his chest ache, and he hated it.

He didn't understand what it was supposed to mean, or what he was supposed to do about it. Hiding in his lab instead of sitting with her seemed the best thing to do to stop the ache, except his mind was constantly filled with thoughts of what she might be doing. What was she thinking about when she stared for long minutes into the fire? Why did the sight of her chewing her bottom lips as she concentrated on her book send a warm pulse through his body, when it had only ever before made him think of filling her mouth with his cock? The level of restrain it took not to pull her into his arms when he saw her holding back tears would always shake him whenever he thought about it later. He couldn't understand what was wrong with him. Why did she torment him with such thoughts?

He couldn't bring himself to change the way he treated her. She would only have been suspicious of his motives in any case. Instead, he contented himself with small, passive-aggressive acts against her, such as leaving potions ingredients in the kitchen when he knew it annoyed her, or moving her armchair back from the fire so she'd be forced to shift it back to its usual position. Such things were done only to irritate her, his silent retaliation for making him feel something he didn't understand.

Only, the satisfaction he imagined every time he did something never materialised. He wasn't quite sure whether his intention was to annoy her, or to actually provoke a rise out of her, but nothing seemed to faze her. Each time she would calmly push her chair back to the spot she preferred, or would move his ingredients out of the way, sometimes with a gentle reminder not to do it again. The strange, considering looks she would give him were a far cry from the response he'd expected, and instead of a sense of satisfaction, he would only feel something like shame curdling through his bones. Not that it would stop him from doing it again and again, but sometimes he wasn't sure who he was hurting more with his petty vindictiveness.

But then things had changed once more, although it had taken him a few weeks to realise what was happening. His wife had a demanding job, and he was never sure exactly what time she would be home, or if she would have to work at the weekend. Which was why, when she started staying later and later at work, and spending more of her weekends there to, it wasn't immediately obvious. But after the second week in which she'd not arrived home until after ten every day, he began to notice.

He still waited for her, the dinner he had prepared sitting under a warming charm until she arrived, but now he began to try and find out what exactly was keeping her so late. He would ask more and more probing questions about what she had been up to, checking the morning papers each day to see what was happening at the Ministry that could explain what she was doing. But besides the usual news there was nothing that could account for the extra hours she seemed to be working. His questioning over dinner only told him that she had a secret. Her skills at lying were no match for his at observation. Years of spying had made him extremely adept at reading people, yet besides the fact that she was keeping something hidden from him, he had no clue as to what it was.

Maybe it was his own fears that made him jump to conclusions, but as her strange behaviour continued he couldn't help but think the worst of her. The way she refused to meet his eyes over their shared dinner, how she seemed not to need to take her pleasure with him the way he did with her, or how she kept tight-lipped over what was taking up the extra hours away from home, all led him to believe one thing: She was having an affair.

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I know there was very little action in this chapter, and a lot of quickfire information over months, but I really don't want this to drag much longer without getting to the present day. I may come back to this one and improve it in the future, as I don't feel it's my best, although at the moment I am a bit stymied on how to make it better. Coming back to it at a later day will give me fresh eyes, but i didn't want to keep you all waiting.


	11. Chapter 11

I'd really hoped to get this up last week, but I had a far busier time than expected and this was a long chapter. I'll promise I'll answer reviews next time. As always, they're always very much appreciated. Hope you enjoy this next bit!

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Decades of experience in caring for upset and distraught students meant the in no time at all Minerva had managed to manoeuvre Severus onto his sofa, a comforting cup of tea in his hands. A blazing fire roared in the hearth, and he was vaguely aware that the bottles and other detritus that had been piling up had disappeared. An air freshening charm had clearly been applied to the room, and for the first time in weeks Severus realised just how foul he actually smelled, now that the alcohol haze and the fumes from the empty bottle had dissipated.

 

He stared blearily into his cup, unable to look up and meet the gaze of the witch beside him, embarrassment over the tears he’d shed on Minerva’s shoulder warring with his shame for the disgusting state she’d found him in.

 

“What happened, Severus?”

 

“I lost her,” he croaked painfully, his voice dusty with disuse.

 

Her eyes flicked up toward the mantelpiece, and he turned to look at the photo that sat there still, the one he’d found under the pillow in her room. It still sat right where he’d left it with the intention of tormenting himself with what he’d done to her. It had worked all too well. The image tugged at his heart every time he looked at it. Two very different expressions; one full of happiness and hope for the future, the other sly and mocking.

 

He turned his face from it in disgust with himself. How could he have been such a fool? He’d lusted after one girl for so many years and then deified her, when not only did she not care for him, but turned her back on him so easily. He could see now that she never would have been right for him.

 

“I don’t understand, my boy. I’ve seen Hermione at the Ministry this past week, but she refuses to talk about you.”

 

“You saw her… how is she? Has she been well?” he asked eagerly, desperate enough for any news to forget his usual stoic demeanour.

 

Minerva looked at him sharply for a second before replying. “She’s thin; thinner than I’ve seen her before, and it certainly doesn’t suit her. I heard from Kingsley that she took almost a week off, which is unheard of. He doesn’t recall her taking any of her annual leave since she started in the Minister’s Office. She doesn’t look well, Severus, but she won’t tell anyone what happened.”

 

Severus had no reply, closing his eyes and grimacing as if in agony. Even free of him as she now was, he still couldn’t help but bring her pain.

 

“I saw the two of you only a few months ago, at one of the Ministry balls. You looked so… enamoured of each other. The two of you could barely take your eyes off each other. What could surely have happened since then? When I heard that the law was being repealed I was sure you wouldn’t be among the hordes of couples getting their marriages dissolved.”

 

Every word she said seemed to eat at him. They’d presented such a convincing picture to the outside world yet their marriage had been rotten at the core all the time.

 

Minerva continued, flaying his soul further. “And weren’t the two of you courting before the marriage law was even announced? I must say that it wasn’t the easiest thing to hear at first; my prized lion taking up with a snarky old snake like you…”

 

Snape winced, but Minerva didn’t seem to realise how her words stung.

 

“… but once I’d thought about it, it actually made a lot of sense. There’s no one her own age that would suit her, and you’re both…” She trailed off, suddenly noticing his ashen face and pained expression. “Oh, I’m a bletherin’ eejit!” she said, reaching out to pat his hand comfortingly. “Look at me blabbering on and making it even worse. I’ve not even let you get a word in…”

 

“It was all a lie!” Severus blurted suddenly, unable to contain it a moment longer, and startling the elderly witch beside him. “A con… all of it… just to get what I wanted. I didn’t even care about how she felt until it was all too late”

 

“Whatever do you mean? Surely it can’t be as bad as all that,” she replied, shocked by his outburst.

 

“I knew…” he moaned. “I knew about the law, the whole thing, months in advance… Lucius… He even had the announcement put back a few weeks so Draco had time to marry his pureblood wife. When I learned I was going to have to tie myself to one witch… she was the only choice.” He turned his head away from her. “It’s not like I didn’t have other options – there have been plenty of witches interested in me in the last few years.” Severus tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but knew he had failed miserably. Stupid bitches hadn’t cared who he was until he’d helped to destroy the Dark Lord. “…But she was the only one… that was interested in me and not my fame… the only one who didn’t ask about…” He paused for a moment, looking down at his arm as he unconsciously clenched and unclenched his fist. “So different from those emptyheaded, vain fools. She was the only one I knew I’d be able to stand for more than a shag or two.”

 

Minerva’s cheeks pinched in at his language, but she chose not to comment on it. “That doesn’t sound as bad as I’d feared. I thought for a moment you’d used a potion or something to persuade her. Yes, you took advantage of your knowledge of her feelings for you to secure her, but considering how I know she’s felt about you for so many years, surely she was happy enough, especially when that stupid law came out. She would have had to marry someone, and at least she was with the person she wanted to be with. Besides, your own reasoning for your choice is far better than most I know who were forced into marriage. At least the two of you are suitable in terms of personality and interests, I’m sure at least ninety percent of the other marriages were based on money or a lust for youth and beauty. It’s no wonder almost all of them have been dissolved. At least you two had a chance…”

 

He still couldn’t look at her. “No, Minerva. You don’t understand. It was exactly that that I wanted her for too,” he said quietly.

 

Five months earlier

Severus paced back and forth across the worn carpet of his living room. His agitation had barely diminished since earlier that day, when on a trip to Knockturn Alley to purchase some rather shady ingredients, he’d picked up a copy of the Prophet in Diagon Alley with the intention of checking up on his wife, seeing as he was more likely to find out what she was up to from reading the papers than from her. What he had found on the 5th page once he had returned home had sent him into a rage, and he had not been able to concentrate on anything. Several potions and blown up before he’d given it up as a bad job and taken to pacing, thinking furiously as his feet tried to wear a hole in the already worn carpet.

 

Despite his usual inability to hold his temper when his honour was being insulted, Severus had let almost a year pass without confronting his wife over his belief in her infidelity, as. He hadn’t, however, been sitting back and doing nothing. He now had piles of parchments, carefully hidden and warded in his lab, detailing her movements over the past weeks; how often she arrived late, even on occasional not coming home at all, and the time she spent away from home on the weekends. He’d followed her on many occasions, noting where she went and who she’d interacted with. He’d put all his considerable experience as a spy to use, spending hours poring over his notes and trying to find a pattern, yet he’d not been able to discover the identity of the misbegotten mongrel that was fucking his wife. Of course it wasn’t his fault that he’d failed in his endeavours so far. He still had a busy potions business to run, and he knew from experience that she was, on occasion, devious enough to be Slytherin.

 

And devious she must have been, to have managed to outfox him so far. Unless her paramour was from his old house. That would explain how they’d managed to meet without him finding out. Slytherins were extremely adept at hiding what they didn’t want known, and often had the financial resources to pay anyone off who did know something. Of course with all the comings and goings around the Minister’s office it wouldn’t be all that hard for someone to hide more personal interactions behind a screen of business. His wife seemed to thrive on it all, though, and of course with her penchant for planning every day down to the minute she would be more than capable of hiding something illicit amongst everything else she did.

 

He’d not really realised quite how hard she worked before, although considering how she used to throw herself into her studying he really should have known. Before he’d started spying on her he’d been under the impression that she was just a paper-pusher, organising and keeping track of everything that came into and out of the Minister’s office, despite what Lucius had to say about her, so he was surprised to see how much time she spent out of the office, attending meeting and going backwards and forwards between different departments, encouraging (or browbeating) them into compliance. He’d also attended one open session that she’d taken, detailing new measures pertaining to different laws, although of course he’d been polyjuiced at the time.

 

Some strange feeling had bloomed in his chest as he’d looked round at the packed room, everyone listening intently as his wife explained how the new rights and freedoms of various magical being would affect the wizarding world. Whatever he had been feeling, however, had quickly dissipated when he spotted more than one specimen of male inanity eyeing her with a more than friendly gleam in his eyes. He looked at her consideringly. She really had blossomed from the ugly duckling she had been at school. She’d lost weight, he’d realised, and although it lent a new elegance to the structure of her cheekbones and a more fashionable slimness to her waist, he wasn’t so sure that he hadn’t preferred her with a few extra pounds on her.

 

For the rest of the talk he’d watched her carefully for the slightest sign that she might know any of her admirers, but there’d been no hint of anything improper. He’d seen enough hormone driven teenagers over the years to know what someone looked like when they were attracted to another, even when they were trying to be subtle about it. And he knew all too well what she looked like in that situation, having first watched her dismal attempts to attract the Weasely idiot, and then her badly hidden attraction to himself. The disappointed look on the faces of those that didn’t get the chance to speak to her afterwards, surrounded by mewling sycophants as she was, had made him want to pull out his wand a send a few nasty hexes their way. Lusting after her so openly like that was unseemly, especially knowing as they must that she was married.

 

Severus hadn’t, of course, been able to gain access to any of the private meetings she attended as part of her responsibilities, although he had made an effort to find out who she was meeting with, using information from various sources he’d cultivated years before, and who had no idea who they were dealing with, although finding out the topics of such discussions were far harder than discovering who was actually there. The meetings after hours were generally the ones he was most concerned with, as he’d quickly found that they were next to impossible to gather any information about, seeing as they were either held in the less public areas, or even away from the Ministry itself. He’d even discovered that those particular meetings weren’t in any official diary, and neither was there any record of them, increasing his suspicions further.

 

At first he had wondered if some of these meeting were not actually assignations with her lover, but on the occasions he had managed to observe whoever came to meet her he’d not seen the same person twice, and unless his wife was carrying on with either a woman or one of the venerable old codgers in the Wizengamot, he had no idea who she was cheating on him with. Of course, there was always the chance they might be using polyjuice, but few had the money, or the patience, to either buy or brew that amount. At least if she was fucking a Slytherin it would explain how well hidden their affair was, as well as where the money for polyjuice would come from. There weren’t many Slytherins that he could think of, however, that would take a muggleborn to their beds though, not unless they were playing her for their own ends. Somehow that thought always infuriated him, although he couldn’t say exactly why.

 

 

 

Of course, he took his frustrations out on her in his own way, by pounding her into the mattress twice a week as he fought to supress images of some other man lying between her legs, and wishing she wasn’t so cold and unreceptive with him. The idea of her crying out her pleasure in another’s bed made him want to show her how much better it could be with him, but she would always stop any attempt to make their coupling more enjoyable for herself, and instead he had to content himself with her muffled gasps. Her face, when he eventually rolled off her, was always pale and emotionless, although there was something vulnerable in the expression of his eyes and the way she would quickly roll from him so as not to have to meet his eyes.

 

Day to day life had become even more strained, on the occasions she was actually at home. He rarely left the lab except to eat or sleep, mainly because there was so much brewing to catch up with. He left her mainly to herself, relieved that fro once she was home, although he wasn’t above altering the wards so he knew when she left. He would often find her reading or knitting quietly in the sitting room, her solitary figure somehow small and pathetic in the gloomy room.

 

Rarely would he join her, and only when the book he wanted to read was too delicate to be lugging around the house. He certainly didn’t have many books he was willing to take to his lab besides a couple of easily replaceable potions texts. Even the journals he used to keep track of his experiments in were spelled to automatically copy themselves into another set he kept hidden and warded in his room, in case of any accidents with whatever he was brewing.

 

Being in her company was all too uncomfortable, especially in a house that seemed to swallow the slightest noise, leaving nothing but bad memories echoing around the empty rooms. His wife’s unhappiness with their marriage had not bothered him to begin with, but now it seemed to sometimes loom over him as something akin to his own mother’s despair. He had become all too aware of her eyes upon him as he read, silently accusing him, and he would never stay for longer than he needed before escaping either to his room or back to the lab. It was the same at any meals they took together. Conversation was limited to the necessities, although he sometimes found himself wanting to say more. He would always flee as soon as possible.

 

Even worse than having to sit across from her, eating dinner in awkward silence, were the times they were forced to attend Ministry functions. The slew of balls and other events starting in December and reaching through into Spring had been most inconvenient, bound as he was to accompany his wife, but Severus could at least take the chance to observe who she spoke to, and how she acted. It certainly seemed a better opportunity to discover the identity of her lover than trying to get a handle on the goings on at the Ministry. The only problem was that while there were several men at every ball obviously enamoured of her, constantly asking for more dances and trying to commandeer all her time and conversation, there was never a sign from her that she was anything more than coolly polite to those who vied for her attention.

 

In the end he would always feel obliged to accompany her as she made her way round the room, instead of occupying his usual spot in a corner. At least then his presence was enough to quail even the most ardent suitor. Why they were not fazed by the knowledge that she was already married, unless he was actually standing by her side, threatening any young male who dared approach with his best glare, he did not know. The few that braved his disapproval and asked her to dance were usually her annoying friends or members of the Order, as well as one or two Ministry officials, although he graciously refrained from glaring down any member of the Wizengamot or ‘important’ members of their society with whom socialising was the whole reason to attend those ridiculous events. Not that she agreed with his notion of ‘not glaring’, as at some point during the night she would always quietly hiss at him to stop scaring away the people with whom she needed to speak.

 

Even the sight of another’s arms around his wife, friends or not, made his blood boil, however. More often that he would admit to, he would interrupt their dance and pull her into his own embrace, pressing her tights against him and looking around at the room as if to dare them all to say something about him dancing with her. He would look down to see her, blushing like a new bride as he led her around the room. On one occasion she’d even tucked her head under his chin, her cheek against his chest, and unconsciously he’d tightened his hold on her, his hard glare softening as he breathed in the soft perfume of her hair, and revelled in the delicate curves of her willingly pressing against him.

 

Now, however it was all he could do to stop himself from apparating to the Ministry and confronting her with his discovery. There would be no gentle entwining of their bodies this time. It would be hard enough not to grab her and shake her until she confessed all concerning her affair. Of course, it would be unseemly for him to do such a thing in private, let alone in front of so many witnesses, so instead he continued to pace back and forth while he tried to ignore the newspaper that lay open on a small table near the fireplace. The movement kept catching his eye, seemingly mocking him with what the image contained, and the only thing keeping him from blasting it into oblivion was its use as proof of his suspicions when his wife came home.

 

She had been photographed entering a private room at the back of the Leaky Cauldron with Janus Rosier, a pureblood who had finished at Hogwarts the same year she started. He had been too young to have taken the Dark Mark the first time around, and had escaped the second time, despite the fact that many in his family had followed the Dark Lord, by conveniently being aboard. He was defiantly Death Eater material though. Severus could remember more than one incident when a muggleborn had been jinxed or hexed by either him or his friends, although he had always been clever enough that he hadn’t actually been caught doing it. He’d likely left the country with the intention of staying clear of any fighting, although his family connections would have held him in good stead had the Dark Lord been victorious. Since his parents and various uncles and cousins were now languishing in Azkaban, or dead, he was now one of the leading members of the Rosier family, one of the sacred twenty-eight, and enjoyed all the power and wealth that came with such a position.

 

Why, then, was he doing business with Hermione in such a place. Rosier may have had to deal with her as a key aide to the Minister, although Severus had never been under the impression he had any political leanings, but he couldn’t imagine why they would choose to meet in a private room outside of Ministry hours unless there was something underhand going on. The headline on the story suggested some legitimate Ministry business as the reason, although Severus didn’t believe it. If the date had been a couple of years earlier the headline would have proclaimed some torrid affair, but since Skeeter no longer worked for the Prophet it no longer ran defamatory articles about her, instead following her career as the current rising star in the Ministry. For a moment Severus wished he had never ‘suggested’ to the editor that slandering his wife was a bad idea, as right now she deserved to have her name dragged through the mud. It had only taken one look at the picture for Severus to jump to the conclusion that the Prophet hadn’t.

 

Here was the proof for him that she was having an affair, as well as who with. He’d bloody well known it was a Slytherin. Despite the fact that old prejudices died hard, especially in his old house, the power that she currently wielded in her position was enough to make her desirable as a lover, although if she hadn’t been quite so pleasing to the eye, as well as an accomplished and powerful witch in her own right, no self-respecting pureblood would have been willing to debase himself with her. As it was Severus was convinced the bastard was only using her for his own ends, and as soon as her usefulness diminished he would doubtless drop her.

 

The rage he felt at his wife being treated in such a way was palpable, and it took all his effort not to lash out with either his magic or his fists. There was little to hand besides his books, which were far too valuable, and in some cases irreplaceable. He knew he needed to get hold of himself before she appeared. Throwing up a hasty shield around the bookshelves he released a burst of magic, all the more wild for being wandless, and therefore uncontrolled and undirected. With a shriek of splintering wood something tore apart behind him. Belatedly he threw up a shield around himself, stopping all but a couple of splinters that made it through to pierce his left shoulder and his side. He barely felt them.

 

Turning to see what damage he’d wrought, he smirked. Clearly his magic hadn’t been all that uncontrolled. The high backed chair that she always sat in lay in pieces, shards of wood and scraps of fabric scattered across the room and even buried in other pieces of furniture. As satisfying as it was to see, now that he’d released all that pent up rage and could see more clearly again he knew he should mend the chair before she saw it. It wouldn’t do for her to know the effect she had on him.

 

Pulling his wand from out his sleeve, he was about to cast a _reparo_ on it, but to his dismay the fake bookcase swung open and Hermione stepped through into the room, pulling up short as she saw the carnage he’d wrought.

 

She looked around the room, as if to search for hidden attackers, before rushing towards him anxiously.

 

“What happened? Are you injured?”

 

He took a small step back, and she pulled up short of launching herself at him, and a fleeting expression of hurt crossed her face.

 

“There’s no need to concern yourself. I just had a little… mishap with a spell.”

 

The splinter embedded in his side chose that moment to make itself known, and although he tried to hold back his pained hiss, he was unsuccessful, drawing her attention to his injuries.

 

“You _are_ injured! What have you done to yourself?”

 

“Nothing.” He tried to shrug nonchalantly, but it only pulled on the wound more and he winced, betraying himself by pulling his arm close to his side as if to stop further pain.

 

“Turn around and let me see.” She stepped towards him and pushed him gently so he would spin. Her small fingers ran across his back down to his side, and the unwanted pleasant feeling, even through his layers of clothing, made him stiffen and pull away. He could only wonder if she caressed _him_ in such a way. She had certainly not touched Severus like that since the night of the Ministry ball when she’d danced with Lucius. He could feel his blood begin to boil once more at the memory. Hermione ignored his reaction as she pulled out her wand, and he could hear as she used it to further split open the small rip on his clothing so she could get to the piece of wood. There was a slight tugging as she spelled it out, then a cool sensation as she healed the hole it had left.

 

He couldn’t restrain himself any longer. “I saw today’s newspaper. What were you doing with Rosier?” he spat out.

 

“You know I’m not supposed to divulge Ministry business.” She moved on to the other splinter.

 

 _Nice try…_ Perhaps if he’d been one of her idiotic friends and not a consummate Slytherin who’d been dissembling since before she’d been born he might not have noticed the way she’d managed to avoid actually answering the question. He decided to go for the blunt approach.

 

“Are you having an affair?”

 

Her hands stilled for the slightest moment before resuming their work of pulling the fabric away from the gash in his shoulder. “Whatever gave you that impression?” She sound completely incredulous.

 

“You’re out late. You’ve been seen…..

 

She abandoned his shoulder for a moment, stepping around him to search his face intently with curious eyes. “Why, Severus, one could almost think you cared,” she replied lightly.

 

He snorted with distain, although the expression felt forced somehow.

 

“Jealous then?” Her wry smile was so slight that another might miss it.

 

“Hardly,” he answered caustically. “But you are my wife, and as such you will not make a fool out of me and our and discredit our marriage in such a way.

 

She let out a bark of laughter that seemed more bitter than amused. “You’re one to talk, Severus, considering that, by your own admission, you’ve never been faithful to me, not for a second.”

 

“What are you talking about, witch? I’ve not touched anyone besides you since before we started courting.”

 

She was silent for a moment, looking at him incredulously like he’d missed something ridiculously obvious. “I’m not talking about physically. I mean in here,” she eventually said, in a voice far calmer than he could expect, as she pressed both hands to her heart. Her voice grew bitter. “Do you imagine her when you were screwing me? Do you wish it were her beneath you instead of me?

 

Severus blinked, taken aback by her question. Now that he thought about it, Lily had never been a part of his erotic imaginings, not since he’d started to see Hermione in that light. How had he not realised that he’d stopped thinking of her in that way.

 

He turned his back on Hermione in confusion, unwilling to let her see him so discomposed. He had no answer to give her, not one that he wanted to admit to out loud anyway. Surprisingly, she took the opportunity to start working on his shoulder, although he couldn’t understand quite why she was willing to help him, even now. It took only a few moments for her to pull the splinter from his skin and patch up both the small would and his torn clothing. When finished, she was still and quiet behind him for a few moment, and he assumed she was still waiting for him to speak. Finally she seemed to realise he wasn’t going to give her any reply, and with a quiet sigh she began to move towards the stairs. The rustle of her clothes then stopped, although he knew she hadn’t yet left.

 

“Just so you know, Severus, I’m not having an affair. I know _you_ clearly don’t, but I’ve always believed in the sanctity of marriage. I may be disappointed in how this has all worked out, but as long as you’re my husband I’ll never touch another man.”

 

Severus didn’t respond. He didn’t know how. After a moment he heard her leave, and as soon as he knew by the creaking of the floorboards above that she’d retreated to her own room, he sank into his chair and laid his head in his hands.


	12. Chapter 12

Again, I must apologise for the length of time this has taken me to write. I've only managed to get it finished as it's the half term holiday. There's only 4 weeks to go before the end of my teacher training and it's going to be pretty intense, so it's unlikely there'llbe another chapter before then. Dont worry though, I'm not going to forget this story, and I've got several more ideas for once I have finished it as well.

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed or sent a message. The support is very much appreciated, and I will get round to answering you all when I have a bit of time.

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Minerva looked at him for a moment before replying. “You can’t mean that, Severus.”

 

“I do… I did…” he moaned, dropping his head into his hands disconsolately. “I only married her because she was young and desirable, not because I felt anything for her.”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Severus,” Minerva said primly. “You just told me that she was the only one you could possibly see yourself marrying. As you said, it’s not like you are as unpopular as you once were. There were plenty of women throwing themselves at you before this law was devised, and as I recall all too well, you weren’t exactly protesting at the attention.”

 

He lifted his head to glare at her. “Mindless imbeciles the lot of them. I would be surprised if collectively they had half the brain power that Hermione has. They were good for a quick tumble, but for a long-term relationship… No matter how beautiful they were, even a month in the same house as someone that… moronic would have been like murder with slow poison.” He paused for a moment, grimacing at the recollection of one or two particularly brainless hussies he’d taken to bed. He’d actually had to gag one to stop her from talking his erection into disappearing. “Besides, not one of them cared a jot for me until after the war,” he continued bitterly. “They just wanted to get their claws into the famous hero that helped destroy the Dark Lord. They cared nothing for me at all… Whereas Hermione wanted me despite our past. Faced with the choice of her, or some worn-out old hag with the brain of a niffler, what would any man do?”

 

“So, by your own admission you could stand marrying _only_ her because she is not only beautiful and desirable, but clever, interesting, and genuinely feels something for you. Plus, she can relate to what you have been through as you have a shared past. Correct me if I’m wrong, but that doesn’t sound like you married her only because you wanted a young, nubile body in your bed.”

 

He slammed his hand onto the armrest of the sofa, pushing himself up out of the seat angrily. “That’s not what I mean. You’ve got it all wrong.” He began to pace across the room.

 

* * *

 

2 months, 1 week earlier.

 

The road leading to the overly ornate gates was brightly lit. With a quiet crack two figures appeared simultaneously, paused a moment, closely entwined as they were, before stepping apart. Seemingly flustered, Hermione took a moment to smooth down the long cloak she wore over her dress robes. Severus waited patiently, observing with interest the blush on her cheeks, before stiffly offering her his arm. She took it quickly, turning away from his scrutiny, and together they began to walk towards the gates. With a flick of the wand that was already in his hand, they passed through the gate, neither flinching at the cold tingle as the hard metal bars let them through.

 

As they walked silently along the path to the front door, Severus surreptitiously tried to observe her out of the corner of his eye. It had been a few months since she’d denied his assertion that she was having an affair. He still wasn’t sure what to think. She’d never been a great liar, and her simple rebuttal had had the ring of truth to it. Her behaviour hadn’t changed at all either, when, if she had been cheating, he would have expected some alterations in an attempt to hide what she was doing. But she had continued in exactly the same vein as before, and try as he might, he hadn’t been able to discern anything in her conduct that would suggest that she was doing anything other than attending meetings and working hard at the Ministry.

 

This was the first event they had attended together since he had confronted her with his suspicions, and despite his certainty that she was hiding something, even if he was no longer completely convinced that it was an affair, he still felt the need to follow and watch her. Tonight would be no different.

 

They finally reached the front door, and without having to knock it swung open by itself. Once inside, a small team of well-dressed house elves eagerly waited to take their outer garments from them. Once Severus had passed his cloak off he turned to face his wife. It took an effort not to let his jaw drop as he saw the outfit her own cape had been hiding. She was dressed in floor-length dark red silk with a fairly modest neckline. The line of the gown, however, seemed especially designed to show off her body to its best advantage, with the neat waistline curving out at both her breasts and hips, and flaunting her figure perfectly. He wondered who it was all for.

 

With a demure smile she turned to face him. “Shall we go in?” she asked sweetly, not quite looking at him.

 

Severus stepped closer, intending to offer his arm so he could escort her into the next room where he could just make out the faint noises of the party that had already started. But then she lifted her eyes to meet his fully for the first time in weeks, and all thought of where they were fell away. He loomed over her, struggling for a moment with the urge to bend down and capture her soft lips with his own, to show her what she was missing in seeking another man’s embrace. To his surprise, she didn’t pull away, perhaps even moving imperceptibly closer. The gentle biting of her lower lip was more than he could bear, but as he dipped his head towards hers the front doors opened once more, and a small group of giggling witches entered, spoiling the mood.

 

In the moment before she turned away he caught the faintest flash of disappointment, and perhaps regret, cross her face. Regret, no doubt, for having given him the slightest opportunity for him to get so close to her. He watched darkly as she seemed to pull herself together, before reaching out to take his arm once more. As they stepped forward, the double doors leading into the ballroom opened and they entered. Immediately they were spotted, him by Narcissa, and her by the Minister for Magic, and although she clung to his arm until greetings were exchanged between them and their hosts, she was soon dragged away from him by various Ministry toadies, and he was left forgotten.

 

* * *

 

 

A couple of hours later Severus was perplexed and somewhat irritated. He had been strangely popular with the women that evening. Rather than being allowed to lurk in a corner, as he preferred to do at such occasions, he found himself constantly being asked to dance. All he wanted to do was watch his wife sashay round the room in that sleek dress and see who she was talking to, yet he had barely been able to lay eyes on her all night.

 

It was only when the sixth woman in a row had hinted strongly that she would be more than willing to more than just dance with him that evening that he fled the ballroom in disgust and when in search of a quiet drink. He knew where the best drinks were kept.

 

Reaching the smaller library he headed straight towards the drinks cupboard and poured himself a double measure from one of Lucius’ second best bottles of brandy before seating himself in the worn leather chair next to the fire. Relaxing back into the comfortably worn leather and taking a large sip of his drink, he began to ruminate on the evening’s events.

 

He’d notice, almost immediately (or as soon as he’d managed to stop watching out for his wife and actually take a look around) the intense scrutiny from various witches around the room. The predatory gleam in the eyes of some had sent a chill down his spine. Whatever else he might be, Severus Snape was most definitely not prey, yet tonight he’d certainly felt hunted. Clearly, one of the women he’d had a tryst with had divulged his sexual preferences as well as his prowess in the bedroom, as more than one witch had seemed to know far more than they should as they propositioned him.

 

And that ….. woman… the one in the robes that were so tight and revealing that he’d not even heard her name when she’d introduced herself… He couldn’t make out at all what she had been trying to say about his wife. The tart had seemed to be admiring her on one hand but deriding Hermione for her blood heritage on the other, and all the while suggesting that Severus would be better off with a pureblood like her. Her suggestion of what she’d like him to do to her if he was willing to join her outside had actually managed to make him blush and he’d fled the dancefloor as soon as he could escape from her. Severus shuddered with the memory of her cold, clasping fingers on his shoulder as they danced. She was exactly the sort of woman he’d been desperate to avoid when he’d found out about the marriage law, vapid and brainless, unable to have a discussion about anything more meaningful than the latest fashion trends or the gossip amongst the pureblood houses.

 

Strangely enough, his standing amongst the purebloods had increased with the news of his betrayal of the Dark Lord. Few, if any, would admit to genuinely supporting the cause the second time around, protesting that they’d been too scared of the Dark Lord to do anything but fall in line, despite their horror at the atrocities he committed. Oh, they still hated muggleborns as much as they ever had, but they maintained that they had never really wanted to slaughter them. Opportunist backstabbers, the lot of them, Severus thought. Oh, he believed some of them were genuine in their denials, but not one of the, had actually one anything to rid themselves of the megalomaniac. Even the Malfoys had only given the barest amount of assistance to Potter at the last minute to preserve their own skins.

 

Of course, his treachery against the Dark Lord didn’t completely negate the fact that he wasn’t a pureblood, although the fact that he was descended from the Prince family was an advantage. Even the generous stipend that came with his Order of Merlin shouldn’t be enough to tempt any of the pureblood cows that had approached him this evening, although his income from his potions business was not inconsiderable either.

 

So why exactly he was now suddenly so popular, he couldn’t fathom, although it wasn’t like he had never taken any of the purebloods to bed. Immediately after Dumbledore’s death Severus had been rather popular amongst the Death Eater wives, as they tried to use his status to further their own or their husband’s. There was no reason for it now though. He couldn’t imagine what any of them would gain by ties to him.

 

Knocking back the rest of his tumbler, Severus stood and made his way back across to the drinks cabinet. When the door creaked open behind him he didn’t have to turn to know who had entered. He was the only guest who would have known to come here, rather than raiding the more obvious liquor cabinet in the drawing room. Perhaps in the past, when some of the ‘old guard’ were around this room may have felt like something of a gentlemen’s club, filled with the patriarchs of the pureblood families who had supported the Dark Lord.

 

But now the ballroom was filled with the younger generations, along with many witches and wizards that never would have been allowed to cross the doorstep 10 years ago. Witches like his wife. Likely he was the only one besides the family that now had access through the wards to this room, filled as it was with rare and dubious books, though not illegal. Those were even more carefully hidden from prying eyes.

 

The footsteps behind him were too heavy to be Narcissa, not that she would have countenanced slipping away from her party for a moment. Draco and the heavily pregnant Greengrass girl had slipped away as soon as politely reasonable. The boy seemed to genuinely care for his wife, and was highly solicitous of her comfort, especially in her current condition. That just left Lucius. Severus filled a second tumbler with what he knew to be his friends favourite. Picking both glasses up, he turned and handed one to his friend, who had already slipped into his favourite chair. Silence reigned for a few minutes, as both men relaxed and quietly savoured their drinks. Severus was aware, however, of Lucius watching him curiously over the top of his glass, but chose to wait him out, knowing that his friend wouldn’t be able to keep quiet long when something was bothering him.

 

“You little wife sure has been busy tonight,” Lucius spoke finally, his voice filled with meaning.

 

Severus took another slow sip before he answered.

 

“Has she? I’ve not had time to notice.” He managed to keep the irritation from his voice, but inside he was more than vexed at missing the chance of observing her in _that_ dress. For some reason Lucius seemed to find him remark amusing, for he chuckled quietly before replying.

 

“I had noticed you’ve been rather preoccupied yourself somewhat. You’ve clearly been enjoying yourself far more than your wife has. She’s been talking business all evening, while you seem to have been reaping the benefits of it. Lucius shook his head, a wry smile on his face. “Whatever else one might say about your wife, she is definitely a force to be reckoned with. If only she’d been in the Minister’s Office a year earlier, then perhaps none of this would have happened in the first place.”

 

What was the man talking about? Most likely some boring governmental matter that Lucius was only meddling in because it affected the amount of galleons in his vaults. Not wanting to show his ignorance of what his wife had been up to though, Severus grunted non-committedly in reply.

 

“”She may be useful to keep around, despite her unfortunate blood. Once this business is all finished with I will have to see if I can continue to be of use to her. Any… affiliation could only be advantageous to us both.”

 

Severus looked up sharply at these words. Lucius had said them blandly enough, but he knew well enough that there was often a double meaning to be found in his friend’s words.

 

“So, has anyone take your fancy, or are you planning to play the field for a while?” Lucius asked slyly.

 

“I don’t understand what you mean,” he replied casually, although he was certain that Lucius was referring to the women that had been offering themselves to him all night.

 

“Oh come on, Severus, you can’t have failed to notice all the attention you’ve been getting this evening, and from some rather… enchanting ladies.”

 

“What are you insinuating?”

 

Lucius threw up his hand in mock surrender. “Insinuating? Nothing of course. I’m _asking_ if any of them have piqued your interest enough to warrant pursuing.”

 

“I don’t know why you think I’d be interested in taking up with any harpy that displays such wanton, disgusting behaviour? And many of them with their husbands watching too.”

 

“Muggle born husbands,” Lucius said meaningfully, “with pureblood wives...”

 

“Why the hell should that make a difference? A marriage is a marriage, whether or not the husband is muggle born or one of the Sacred Twenty-eight. And you should know by now that blood makes no bloody bit of difference to me,” Severus retorted, fed up with a conversation where he felt he was missing some vital understanding of.

 

“But it does to them. It’s not like there are many appropriate husbands out there anymore. There are more than a few women for whom this is a second marriage, and one that they didn’t want. The war left too many widows, and the male bloodlines of the pureblood houses decimated…”

 

Severus made a sound of disgust. He’d never cared about the pureblood ideology. His own reasons for joining the Death Eaters had been completely different, and now the war was over he’d found that he couldn’t care less about whose blood was ‘pure’ or not. Twenty years in charge of stuck up Slytherin brats were more than enough to open his eyes to the fact that the purebloods were no more magically talented that anyone else. You only had to look at his Hermione to know that blood meant nothing.

 

…except the Weasleys” Lucius continued, determinedly ignoring him. “Not that any self-respecting witch would marry into that family. Not that I believe any of them would be considering divorce in any case. Which leaves a lot of ladies in a bit of a bind. You’ll be in high demand, my friend. You may only be a half blood, but you have all the right connections, which goes a long way to making up for your parentage. Of course, your mother was a Prince, even if she did marry a muggle. That’s more than many wizards can boast nowadays. You’re also well thought of by most for helping rid us of that madman.”

 

“Severus snorted, this time in amusement. Strange how so many were happy to follow the Dark Lord while he was alive, but now he was dead they blamed him for reducing their influence and standing in the wizarding world, he mused.

 

“You’ll be seen as a pretty good catch for any of those women out there, despite your… appealing… personality” Lucius continued. “You’ll have your pick of the bunch, I’d wager.”

 

Severus had grown more and more bewildered as Lucius had carried on speaking, and finally abandoned all pretence at understanding the conversation.

 

“What in Merlin’s name are you blathering about, Lucius?” he blurted. “Why on earth would I interested in any of those women?”

 

Surprise by the outburst, Lucius took a moment to reply.

 

“Why? Why wouldn’t you? Barring one or two, I’m sure most of them would make an excellent wife for you. Although they would probably expect you to move out of that dump you call a house. Between the Ministry pension and the money you make with your business, I really don’t understand why you’re still living there.”

 

And why would I want another wife, when I already have one?” Severus replied, ignoring the slur on his home. It was only the truth after all.

 

“But you won’t for much longer, will you, that’s my point. Once that idiotic law has been repealed you’ll be able to get a divorce. We only need one more vote in the Wizengamot to overturn it, and since Ignus Blishwick is apparently on his deathbed and set to be replaced by Gamp, we’ll have the majority soon enough, I’m sure. Of course, we would have been able to get the law repealed much sooner if so many of the venerable old letches hadn’t taken advantage of it to inveigle some poor young witch into marriage and into their bed.”

 

He leant forward, lowering his voice to whisper conspiratorially, “Between you and me, I’m sure that’s what’s done in old Blishwick. A hundred and thirty two years old, and not a health problem in sight. One curvy young witch and a year later his heart is giving out.” He leant back, his voice rising once more in volume.  Still, he’s not prepared to give her up, and half the Wizengamot the same with their own new wives. Mind you, I’m not sure that half the support we’ve got to repeal the law has been less to do with actually disagreeing with the concept, but more jealously over the fact that they’ve not been able to take advantage of it themselves, with wives still living.” He chuckled. “I’d even heard that old Travers had his wife poisoned so he could…”

 

“Repealed!?” Severus suddenly interrupted his monologue, his shocked stupor finally broken. A cold sickly feeling had spread through his chest as his friend had continued to speak.

 

“Repealed?” he repeated. “Since when has this been going on?”

 

“You mean you don’t know?” Lucius replied, his voice incredulous. “Surely Hermione told…”

 

“Are you telling me my wife has something to do with this?”

 

“Something to do…?” Lucius looked across at his friend strangely. “Severus, the whole thing has been her idea from the start. We wouldn’t be within a league of repealing this law if it wasn’t for her. She’s spent months gathering support and persuading the Wizengamot to change their minds. It’s taken some serious work on her part, as they’d all been convinced that it was the only way to save the population from declining. Surely you noticed she’s been working extra hours to get this pushed through?”

 

“But... but…” Severus couldn’t seem to form a coherent though for several moments, so astounded was he by Lucius’s information. “You mean she’s not been having an affair?” was the only thought to make it through the tangle in his head to be spoken out loud.

 

To his consternation Lucius laughed, his amusement lasting far longer than Severus though necessary, and despite his best glare.

 

“Merlin’s balls, Lucius! Why didn’t you say something if you knew what she was up to,” he eventually snapped. “I’ve been trying to find out for months.”

 

“Old friend, are you seriously telling me you had no idea of what your wife has been doing?” Lucius managed to get out between chuckles.

 

“No, I’m just saying so to give you some amusement. What do you think?” Severus snapped.

 

Lucius only laughed louder. Growing steadily more irritated with his friend, Severus leant back in his chair and crossed his arms, and waited impatiently for the laughter to die down.

 

“I assumed you knew. I thought perhaps that you’d even put her up to it.”

 

When Severus just glared in response he continued, shrugging his shoulders slightly, his expression changing from mirthful to apologetic as he realised his mistake.

 

“It honestly never occurred to me that you didn’t know.”

 

“Yet it never occurred to mention it to me in passing at any point before now,” Severus shot back furiously.

 

“I don’t understand why you’re so angry, Severus,” Lucius said, although something in his tone made Severus look up sharply at him. His friend’s expression was unreadable, carefully bland, but there was something in his eyes that seemed to be mocking him.

 

“Surely it means you’ll finally be rid of her,” he continued.

 

Suddenly his anger was all gone, leaving behind a strange uneasiness that roiled uncomfortably in his belly. Lucius was right, he realised. No doubt she would have the divorce papers ready the moment the law was repealed. The chance to remove himself from the situation she’d found herself in had in all likelihood been the reason for her to fight against the law in the first place, although Severus was sure that, having heard of the many unsuccessful marriages that had been forced on the wizarding population, she probably would have become involved at some point anyway. The last few months had started to see reports of abuse within some of these marriages, and there would be many more instances that weren’t being reported. Pureblood families in particular would try to keep such things under wraps, as there were always appearances to put up.

 

But now, he would be free… free of her presence in his house; free from silently awkward couplings in the dark; free from the wife he’d never wanted. To be able to go back to his life as a bachelor popular enough to be able to keep company with various willing women, while keeping them out of his life and home. He’d never wanted to marry in the first place, he reminded himself. He’d been perfectly content before.

 

 _“Yes, but you didn’t want anyone else to have her, even then. You still desired her for yourself, even though you wouldn’t let yourself have her”_ , a small voice whispered in reply. _“She’ll move on eventually. Can you really bear seeing her in the arms of another man now?”_

 

Suddenly Severus stood, slamming his tumbler down on the side table as hard as he dared with delicate (and no doubt priceless) glass. He was halfway to the door before Lucius called out.

 

“What are you planning on doing?” He sounded concerned.

 

“I’m going to see my wife,” Severus bit out through clenched teeth.

 

“I do hope you don’t plan on making a scene. It would only reflect badly on you right now, considering how popular she is right now, especially with all of our guests here tonight. Besides, Narcissa would never forgive you for ruining her party...”

 

His voice had gained in volume as Severus had disappeared out the door, and the last sentence followed him down the hall as he strode back toward the ballroom. Not that he paid his friend’s words any attention anyway.


	13. Chapter 13

I apologise for the ridiculous amount of time it's taken me to get this chapter out. I've passed my teaching course, and got myself a fantastic job. My muse, however, completly abandoned me, and despite carrying my notebook around with me all hours of the day, very little got written until yesterday.

Hope it's been worth the wait, and I'm sure the next one won't be as long coming, as I feel like I'm back into the flow a bit more. I will try and reply to your reviews and messages. They are very much appreciated!

* * *

 

 

Minerva lifted one eyebrow mockingly. “Oh? Go on then, convince me otherwise. I’m not sure why you felt you had to go about it in such an underhand manner, considering how Hermione has felt about you since after the war, but explain to me how marrying the girl for all the reasons you just explained is so heinous a crime? Or are you telling me that you…”

 

“I manipulated her into it all,” he spat. “I encouraged her feelings, even before I had any intention of having any sort of relationship with her…”

 

“I’m not stupid, Severus. Anyone who’s worked with hormonal teenagers for any length of time could see that she was enamoured with you long before graduating Hogwarts.

 

He paused in his pacing. “And I took full advantage… Not while she was a student, of course,” he clarified quickly, seeing Minerva’s eyes flash. “But I encouraged her to believe she might have a chance. And then I heard about the law from Lucius, and I began making every blasted effort to make her think I cared for her…”

 

“But you _do_ care for her, Severus… Anyone looking at the two of you together could see that. It can’t have all been that bad. You both always seemed happy… Well, Hermione did, at least. No one ever expected _you_ to behave any differently from normal. It can’t all have been that bad, can it? 

 

He turned his head away, unable to face her. “I don’t know what you think you saw, Minerva, but it was all nothing but a sham. I treated her abominably, starting the night of our wedding. You saw only what you wanted to see.  If you’d been at the Malfoy’s ball a few months ago, you would have seen a much truer representation of what our marriage has been like. I made her miserable… every day of our lives together…”

 

Severus peeked back at Minerva, hoping she would have something to say to absolve him, but she stayed silent, her lips pursed together as she waited for him to continue. He began to pace again as he tried to put into words what had happened.

 

“It was only once I’d lost her that I realised… And now I… I… Merlin’s balls, I can’t do this!” He stopped once more in the middle of the room, his fists clenched as he felt his grief and self-recrimination threaten to swamp him. “I don’t know _how_ to… What good am I to her?” His voice began to rise. “I wouldn’t know how to treat her right if she _did_ come back… and why would she, after what I did? She’s the one good thing that ever happened to me, and I treated her like dirt! No wonder she hates me! She would have been better off if I was fucking dead!”

 

As his raging emotions peaked, a wave of energy suddenly burst from him, sending everything, books and all, crashing to the floor, kicking up clouds of dust. The one spot left untouched was around Minerva, as she’d dealt with enough teenage angst to see his magical outburst approaching, and had pulled out her wand in plenty of time to cast a shield around herself.

 

As the dust settled, she let her shield dissipate, before standing and making her way gingerly through the mess to where Severus had slumped on the floor, the twisted and shattered frame that had been on the mantle now lying before him. Carefully she reached out to touch his shoulder, sure that his outburst was over and he wouldn’t react badly to her gesture of comfort.

 

He shuddered slightly but otherwise didn’t respond to her, his gaze focused on the photo as the two figures moved silently through their ceaseless cycle.

 

“Severus…”

 

Minerva paused to watch as he slowly reached out to touch the image of Hermione, tracing his finger around her face as she beamed up happily at him from the floor. Minerva noticed for the first time the nasty sneer on the newly married groom’s face when he knew Hermione couldn’t see. No wonder that she’d never seen that particular photo of their wedding. The only photos that had been shown around were still muggle photos, taken for Hermione’s parents. There’d been some excuse at the time as to why the moving ones hadn’t developed properly, and no wonder, if this was what they were all like.

 

 _Pity that he had to wait until now to realise what he felt_ , she thought. _Hermione has such a generous heart, I’m sure she’ll eventually forgive what he’s done, but I doubt she’d ever take him back._ Not that Severus would want to hear that right now, she was sure. She needed to get him up and moving, to encourage him to find a way to let Hermione know he was sorry for how he had treated her. They probably both needed the closure to be able to move on, although Severus was going to need some careful handling.

“Come, my boy.” She patted his shoulder gently. “Let’s get you washed and fed, and we’ll see what we can do.”

 

“What’s the point?” he whispered brokenly. “I’ve lost her.”

 

She put on her sternest voice, used only when dealing with recalcitrant students. “Severus Snape, you’re going to pull yourself up off the floor and get yourself cleaned up while I arrange a good meal. Once you’ve eaten you’re going to tell me everything, starting from the beginning.”

 

Still he didn’t move from the floor, so she tried another tack. “That poor girl is suffering right now, and she won’t let anyone help her. She won’t talk to anyone, not even Potter. Knowing what happened may help us know what to do.”

 

* * *

 

(2 months, 1 week earlier)

 

The moment Severus burst through the doors, sending them crashing with a loud thump, the anger that had built in the last few minutes spluttered and died. All eyes had turned towards his entry, but very few had lingered, with most guest turning back to their dance partners or conversations as soon as they’d ascertained the source of the noise. Severus barely noticed them anyway.

 

It wasn’t the threat of Narcissa’s displeasure that had caused his anger to dissolve, but the sight of his wife, moving lightly around the dancefloor only a dozen or so paces from where he had entered had caused him to half forget for a moment the revelation that had so infuriated him.

 

She was stunning. Tiny curls that had escaped her formal hairstyle hung around her face, framing her delicate features as she smiled and talked animatedly. The dress that clung to her curves so beautifully seemed to flow like water around her as she spun gracefully in another wizard’s arms. A strange flutter manifested itself in his chest at the vision before him. How long did he have? Lucius hadn’t mentioned exactly when the law would be voided. How long before she would leave him and find herself another wizard. He was sure it wouldn’t take her long.

 

Their eyes locked together, over the shoulder of the partner that he now recognised as one the slightly less venerable members of the Wizengamot. After a moment he saw her eyes widen slightly, and the sudden anxious look that flitted across her face told him that she had read his mood correctly. The expression on his own face was enough to make the few people close to him shy away. No wonder Hermione seemed worried, although quickly she was steered further around the dance floor, and away from his gaze.

 

Schooling his face back to impassiveness, he strode to the edge of the floor, pausing as he waited for the pair to dance round to him. As they approached, he stepped forward, halting their progression. Severus bowed slightly to the older wizard, in acknowledgement of the interruption, even as he held out his hand for her to take.

 

“If you would excuse my cutting in… I’m afraid I have not yet had the chance to dance with my wife.”

 

For a moment it seemed as though the old fool was going to refuse, but one glance at the dark look on Severus’ face clearly persuaded him to give up his companion. He finally began to move away, grumbling to himself under his breath, leaving them relatively alone near the edge of the floor. Severus waited until Hermione stopped trying to pretend her attention had been caught elsewhere, and finally met his gaze with her own.

 

The apprehension in her eyes was clear, despite the bravado she was trying to show. Slowly, he held out his hand, palm up, silently inviting her to dance. With only the barest hesitation she placed her hand in his.

 

The moment she did so, he pulled her to him, as his other hand slipped around her waist, holding her tight and making her gasp with surprise. They began to move, dancing silently for a few long minutes. Severus took the chance to enjoy the feel of her curves beneath the soft silky sheath she wore. The thought that she’d soon be out of his life seemed a distant one as he held her in his arms.

 

 One song finished and another began, and he guided her into the next dance without a word, although he soon spotted another Ministry lackey approaching, his eyes fixed determinedly on Hermione. Severus spun her slightly so he could warn the encroaching idiot off with a furious glare over her head.

 

The other wizard paled and changed direction, trying to make it seem as if it had been his intention all along, but managing to bump clumsily into at least one couple who had just joined the dancefloor. Severus smirked grimly to himself. He still had it. The opportunities to cow the dunderheads had been few and far between since leaving Hogwarts, and he missed it. He kept an eye on the wizard as he made his way back to his friends, who up until then had been watching Hermione and himself dance with covetous eyes. Severus scowled at them as the fool began to whisper animatedly. As one they all seemed to suddenly find other things of interest to look at.

 

 _Bastards, the lot of them_ , Severus thought. By their bearing and dress they were all purebloods, making the likelihood of them having any real interest in Hermione to be next to none. He could assume that the main draw was the power that his wife held, although, unlike many of the witches that had reached the same level, she was neither old nor a hag. All in all, she would be quite an appealing package once the law was dissolved, although none of those particular wizards would stoop further than using her for their own ends, and chuck her without a second thought. Certainly none of them had a serious relationship in mind as they watched her with greedy eyes.

 

Unconsciously Severus pulled her tighter against him. She was undoubtedly still naïve in many ways. Open to letting herself be used by power-hungry bastards who cared nothing for her. The foolish girl was liable to get hurt.

 

 _She won’t be your responsibility,_ a little voice whispered. _She doesn’t want you. She can’t wait to leave you, so why should you care? You never even wanted a wife. You’ll be free to go back to the life you had before, when you were happy shagging as many women as you desired._

 _I desire_ her _. She’s mine,_ he asserted, not realising how he was suddenly crushing her close against his chest.

 

_So you’d prefer to continue bedding a cold fish like her, instead of one of those women who were so eager for your company earlier this evening?_

 

The song drew to a close, and Hermione pulled herself out of the tight grip he had on her, signalling that she was ready to leave the dance floor. She seemed strangely perturbed, but by what he wasn’t sure. Reluctant to let her go quite yet, he offered her his arm, which she took, and he began to lead her off the dance floor.

 

Across the room, Severus spotted one of the women who had been propositioning him earlier. Her scarlet dress, cut to reveal one long, slender leg, as well as a more than generous amount of cleavage, certainly drew the eye. When she spotted him looking she paused, flicking her hair over her shoulder and further exposing her no doubt magically-enhanced breasts.

 

“Who is that?” Hermione hissed quietly from beside him.

 

He looked down at her to see that she had followed his gaze to the bimbo over the other side of the room.

 

“Do you know her?” she continued, as they stopped at the outskirts of the ballroom.

 

“I danced with her earlier.” He tried to sound nonchalant. “I can’t recall the name.” He hadn’t been interested enough to listen for it. “We had quite an interesting conversation though…”

 

“Oh, really,” she asked sceptically. “All about the latest breakthrough in Potions, I suppose.”

 

“Not at all,” he replied casually. “She was telling me about her plans for after the marriage law is rescinded and she can get rid of her muggle-born husband.”

 

He was stretching the truth a bit, but it seemed to have the desired effect, as his wife immediately stiffened beside him, her amber eyes flashing angrily. It reminded him of how he used to enjoy winding her up about her old job, just so he could admire how beautiful she was when fired up, and wonder if she would look the same when fucking. Not that he’d had much chance to test his theory, in the end.

 

“And I suppose you told her how you couldn’t wait to get rid of your muggleborn wife either,” she retorted.

 

Don’t put words into my mouth,” he replied silkily, although her words riled him. “I said nothing of the sort. Since when have I been bothered by blood status?” Of course, at the time he’d known nothing about the law being thrown out, but he wasn’t about to tell her such a thing. His irritation spiked at the reminder of his wife’s duplicity. Perhaps it was time to give her a taste of her own medicine. All those months thinking she’d been carrying on an affair, and all along she was working hard to be able to leave him.

 

“Although…” he continued, deciding that she deserved to feel the same way she’d made him feel, “she has made me think about my own… situation a little more.”

 

“What do you…?”

 

She was suddenly cut off as a small group of wizards cut into their conversation, requesting her time to discuss some point of law that was currently going through the Wizengamot, and how it was going to affect their business. Severus barely heard a word. His attention was on the hussy displaying her wares across the way. She wasn’t really the type he went for, not even when he’d been enjoying himself with as many women as possible. Her ‘charms’ did nothing for him. Everything about her screamed fake and vulgar. Unfortunately for her, being a pureblood didn’t prevent a witch from coming across as a cheap whore.

 

She was perfect, however, for teaching his wife a lesson. He excused himself from the group, noting out of the corner of his eye that Hermione’s gaze followed him as he began to move away. He smirked to himself, turning it into a slight smile for the tart who still lingered across the room.

 

When she realise he was heading her way, she arched her eyebrow, glancing meaningfully towards the doors that led out onto a terrace in a clear invitation for him to follow. He didn’t look back, but Severus could almost feel the rage pouring off his wife. She’d been effectively cornered, however, by those three business-wizards and would be unable to do anything without making a scene.

 

She’d slipped outside by the time he reached the doors, and he quickly followed, not needing to check to see if Hermione was still watching, but knowing for sure that she still was. The cooler air hit him as he stepped out, clearing his head a little after the closeness of the ballroom. The sound of the music already seemed muted, and faded further as he moved to the stone railing at the edge of the terrace.

 

She was behind him, he knew, having waited behind one of the small trees that stood either side of the open doors so she could move up behind him. Stupid woman, what was she thinking, trying to sneak up on someone like him? Lucky he had spotted her as he exited the ballroom, but if he hadn’t… likely she would have got hexed if she’d actually managed to surprise him.

 

He didn’t react, therefore when her hands suddenly snaked round his waist, her fingers reaching to toy with one of his buttons idly.

 

“I wondered how long it would take you to make up your mind,” she whispered huskily as her strong, musky perfume washed over him for the second time that evening.

 

Pulling her fingers away from his buttons he turned to face her suddenly, making her step back in surprise, before he grabbed her wrists and pulled her back to him.

 

“I’m not the sort of wizard to pass up an… attractive opportunity,” he said seductively, as he lowered his mouth to graze the shell of her ear. “And your offer was definitely… irresistible.”


	14. Chapter 14

Thank you all for sticking with me through this shocking lack of updates. This story has been on my mind every day, but this first half term as a newly qualified teacher has been the busiest of my life. Thank God for half term holidays! I'll try not to make it as long again this time, and hopefully I'll be able to respond to some more of your kind comments. They are always appreciated and knowing you're all waiting for the next chapter goes a long way towards encouraging me to get a move on with this story.

 

* * *

Severus' voice, weary and raw with pouring out all the emotion he'd suppressed for so long, finally petered out and fell silent.

It took Minerva a few moments to find her voice, no doubt stunned by his sordid tale of manipulation and mistreatment.

"Well, you've certainly managed to cock it up completely, haven't you? I had no idea, I don't think anyone did. We all thought you were happy together. I certainly knew you'd had a thing for each other for a long time, so it only made sense when the two of you got together when that ridiculous law came out."

Severus looked up sharply. "What do you mean?"

"Oh come on, Severus. When, in all your years teaching have you even taken the time to meet with an ex-student? And especially one who annoyed you so much when she was at school.

"...Don't tell me it was because she was the only one who could hold a decent conversation," she added when she saw him about to argue. "There have been plenty of bright students come through Hogwarts in the last 20 years, although I will admit there have been none that could quite match _her_."

He didn't need Minerva to tell him _that_. "Match her? There's not a single dunderhead I had the _displeasure_ of teaching that could come anyway near," he griped.

"Of course, her feelings were obvious to anyone who took the time to look. Not that those boys had any idea - they were quite shocked when the two of you announced your intention to marry. I've never seen her so happy though, and she wasn't the only one with an improved disposition. There was something quite different about you too."

"Yes, I'd managed to piss off Potter and his pet Weasley by stealing their friend for myself," he agreed, "not to mention surprising half of wizarding Britain by securing such a beautiful young witch to be my wife. I'm sure most of the imbeciles I've taught expected to see me end up with some hag older and uglier than myself. But I felt like I deserved something better, and there she was, offering herself up to me on a plate. What else would a hot-blooded wizard do? Let her down gently and go searching for a crone who would have me?

His voice grew softer. "Merlin knows what she even saw in me in any case… and all I've done is prove exactly why I never deserved her." He dropped his head, unwilling to let the old witch see the misery on his face.

"I can understand you feeling like you were owed something after everything you went through, but I don't believe that was the only reason you married her. You clearly felt something for her at the time, even if you can't admit it."

"What does it matter? She's gone now. And it's no more than I deserve in any case," he snapped. "The fact that I care for her makes everything I did to her a thousand times worse. What kind of man treats the woman he loves that way? I may be as big a bully as my own father ever was, but at least he never professed to loving my mother. He had the excuse of being trapped into a marriage with a child he didn't want, and a wife that turned out to be a witch! What excuse do I have for treating her the way I did?"

He was faintly aware of his magical aura starting to crackle again. He'd never had such lapses of control, even when he was a young child. It was proof of how badly she had affected him. He could feel his control starting to slip once more.

In an instant, Minerva whipped her wand back out and stunned him, halting his magical outburst before it could break. Casting another spell in quick succession, she stopped his fall, lowering him gently to the ground.

"Oh Severus, my boy," she whispered gently to his motionless form as she checked to see whether he was still conscious or not, "what are we going to do with you?"

Realising her stunner had knocked him out, Minerva raised her wand to cast again. The message she gave to the three silver cats that prowled round the room were clear and succinct, and it wasn't until she had sent them on their way that she wondered whether she had done the right thing.

* * *

2 months earlier

He was toiling in his potions garden, tearing out the small weeds that had started to grow as if they had personally offended him. The area wasn't particularly large, but it helped to being down the cost of his overheads, and afforded him a good reason to spend time out of his lab.

The prickling on the back on his neck told him he was being watched, even though he hadn't heard anyone enter the garden, and the tall fence, embedded with privacy charms and a few nasty hexes, kept all other eyes out. He'd certainly have felt if anyone had tried to dismantle them. That left only one option, yet she'd only acknowledged his existence once in the week since the ball, and even that occasion had been as forced as it usually was, once a week.

Not since they'd shared terse goodbyes with their hosts had he heard the sound of her voice. Not that she seemed to be furious with him, although deep down he knew she had every right to be, ever since he had slipped back into the ballroom less than a minute behind the slightly dishevelled hussy that had been so eager to throw herself at him. His own appearance had been no less orderly than usual, and no one had seemed to connect his return with that of the blonde witch. No one except his wife.

He'd spent the rest of that evening relishing in the hurt he'd caused her, feeling that she'd deserved it for going behind his back to rid herself of him. He knew she had seen the two of them return to the ballroom, just as she'd seen them leave, and he had no doubt she'd been counting the minutes in between, growing more agitated as the time passed., she'd never been very good at concealing her emotions especially when upset. It had only taken two days for the elation to wear off, but as the night of their required coupling approached trepidation had begun to build. Would this be the last time? How long would it be until she walked out of his life?

He told himself that he didn't care, that he could get any woman he pleased, just as he had before the law had been passed. For now, however, he was stuck with her, in some strange form of purgatory, unable to either enjoy her as he had once hoped to all that time ago, knowing that before long she would be gone, but in the dark as to when he would be free.

It was his own fault, he could admit that, if nothing else. He should have been able to lie to her about his feelings, making her believe he cared for her, then at least he would have had her slender, supple body for his pleasure. Her company had always been good enough before they married – why couldn't he have just sweetened the relationship with a bit of sex? The problem was, that with women, it was never just sex. That was one of the reasons why his flings never lasted long – they always got too attached.

And now, to make things even worse with her, he'd been so callous at the ball, disappearing with that woman and rubbing her face in the knowledge that he didn't love her. He deserved her anger, but strangely she hadn't shown any, instead ignoring his presence as if he wasn't there at all. She'd barely looked at him since. The lack of expression in her eyes unnerved him, as did the way she seemed to look through him as if he wasn't there.

She hadn't even spoken to him when she'd come to his bed. The faintest scent of firewhisky had tickled his nose as she slipped silently between him sheets, although he'd been sure she hadn't had more than a glass or two, just enough to bolster her courage.

She'd clung to him, almost desperately, as he'd moved between her legs, her nails digging into his back, but not a sound had she made the entire time. He'd been so desperate to have her that night, to prove that she was, at least for the moment, still his. He'd not lasted long, and he could tell by the way she still trembled as he removed himself from between her legs that once again he'd not driven her to her own orgasm.

He would have been ashamed of himself over the lack of pleasure he'd given her over the last couple of years, but he was too angry with her to care. He was still furious that she had worked so hard to leave him, when she'd vowed to be his forever. How could she, if she'd truly loved him as she had professed to when they had married? But in a few weeks, she would be abandoning him, just like everyone else.

_…just like Lily._

His chest had swollen with anger at the petite witch lying beside him. What was she still even doing in his bed? Normally she would have fled as soon as she could get out from underneath him. He'd flicked his fingers, silently lighting the candle beside the bed, leaving the room just bright enough to be able to see her, looking up at him with liquid golden eyes. It was the alcohol, he'd decided, that was the reason for her continued presence. She'd clearly had more than he'd believer. What the hell did she want from him? What gave her the right to torment him further by staying longer than usual?

Slowly he'd leant forward, until their noses were almost touching.

"Get… out…!" he'd growled fiercely.

She'd blinked at him stupidly for a moment before his words had seemed to hit her, and throwing back the covers, she'd bolted from the room, leaving him alone.

Just how he liked it, he'd told himself.

As he continued to pull the weeds out from amongst the dittany and Lady's Mantle the awareness that he was not alone grew. Slowly he edged around the bed, still tearing out unwanted shoots and snipping off dead heads, until he was able to look up for a quick glimpse of the kitchen window. It was dark. Severus frowned. He'd been so sure he was being watched, but then again it had been a few years since he'd relied on his intuition and instinct to keep him alive. Perhaps he was a little rusty, not that he missed living like that, never sure if the next moment would be the one where his duplicity would be discovered.

Still, he had been so sure that he was being watched, the sensation almost tangible. He lowered his head, returning his attention back to the plants in front of him. A gut feeling told him to look back up, which he did without raising his head once more.

There… the slightest shadow moved behind the dark glass. It could only be her. The purpose of her clandestine surveillance of him, he couldn't discern. At least it made a chance from her acting as if he didn't exist, turning a blind eye to his presence in a room, stepping around him as if he was a piece of furniture, even preparing food only for herself and eating it in front of him, acting like she were completely alone.

Curious as to why she had suddenly stopped ignoring him so completely, but unwilling to show his interest, Severus worked for another few minutes before he was satisfied the beds were free of weeds. Quickly scraping his tools off – he didn't want any residual magic contaminating the soil or his ingredients – he packed them away into the small shed in the corner of the garden. He stopped to pick the handful of cuttings he'd taken for brewing or drying later that day, before making his way inside. The kitchen was empty. He wasn't surprised. No doubt she had retreated to her room as soon as she realised he was on his way in.

It wasn't until he'd rinsed his hands and turned round to dry them that he spotted the newspaper, left abandoned on the kitchen table. Severus never normally read the Prophet, as it was usually little more than a salacious source of gossip, most of which were untrue, but because of her work, Hermione had always insisted on keeping up a subscription to keep up to date with anything that might be going on. She rarely left it out where he could see it though, and so the incongruity of the crumpled paper in an otherwise spotless kitchen drew his eye.

Severus scanned the page it had been left open at. The article was a continuation of the story from the front page, and as he skimmed through it his chest began to tighten. Despite not actually wanting to know what the headline said, with a sense of dread he flipped the pages back.

There they were, the words he'd been fearing since the night of the ball:

**_Wizengamot to Vote on Marriage Law: The Decree's growing unpopularity finally forces the Minister to act._ **

So, it had finally found its way to the media. Severus could only be surprised that it had been kept under wraps for so long, considering how well known it was amongst the purebloods of Lucius's association, but then again, in many ways they still kept themselves separate from the general populace, and certainly never courted the press unless it was to their own advantage.

Severus slumped into a seat as he unwillingly continued to read the article. There was no mention of his wife anywhere, which made sense considering that she had been working behind the scenes and probably didn't want her involvement known. That wasn't what he was looking for, however. What he was looking for was the date on which the Wizengamot would give permission for his wife to desert him. It didn't take long to find it.

Four days…! Four days before she would be out of his life. There was no way that the Wizengamot wouldn't dissolve the law, or the Malfoy's ball wouldn't have been full of so many smug idiots eagerly anticipating relieving themselves of supposedly inferior and unwanted spouses. Four days wasn't even long enough for her to be forced to fuck him again. He'd had his last time with her, and he hadn't known there wouldn't be another chance.

 _Another chance for what,_ his conscience mocked him, _another chance to make her hate you even more when you show her you care nothing for her?_

"And what should I care if she does hate me?" he thought. I never wanted her in the first place, at least not for more than a shag, and I've had that and plenty more, not that it's brought me any satisfaction.

No doubt there would be a plethora of willing witches ready to celebrate their divorces. They would find him ready and able to oblige, although of course there would be no commitment to more than a few pleasure-filled nights with even the most enticing witch. None of them would hold his interest longer than that, they didn't have the intelligence to appeal to him beyond the bedroom.

He couldn't wait to get his old life back, to reclaim his house and his personal space. He'd never brought a witch to his home before her, always going to a hotel if, for some reason, her own home was out of the question for their liaison. That's how it would be again. No commitments, no worries, and most importantly, no wife to provoke and tease him with her very presence.


End file.
